


To Breathe Again

by Fancy_Dragonqueen, kalika_999



Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [50]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1980s, Adopted Children, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Captain America Big Bang 2018 | cabigbang, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Falling In Love, Family Dynamics, Friends to Lovers, Grinding, HYDRA Husbands, Hand Jobs, Healing, Internal Conflict, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, Meddling, Mutual Pining, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-09 09:34:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 57,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16447325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fancy_Dragonqueen/pseuds/Fancy_Dragonqueen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/kalika_999
Summary: Brock Rumlow's outlook of a great life is shaken at its foundation when tragedy strikes and the aftermath turns his entire line of thinking upside down.When Sam, an old high school buddy, mentions needing an extra hand at his garage after getting married, Brock immediately takes up the offer, cuts ties to the big city and plans a place out for himself in a small town he's barely even heard of.There he finds community, family feelings, meddling people, possible peace and a diner that holds a special place in his heart run by Nick Fury and his brood of six mismatched teenage and adult children.In all of this, Brock attempts to settle in with a fresh start mending emotional wounds, keeping to himself without becoming a hermit and finally trying to believe he's good enough with whatever makes him happy, not what’s expected.There's also Jack, Nick's oldest son, whom Brock has no interest in whatsoever.  None at all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1.) I've been lucky enough to introduce my entry for the Captain America Big Bang with [Fancy_Dragonqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fancy_Dragonqueen), who not only did two art pieces (seriously, they're so beautiful!) but is also one of my dearest friends. You made this whole project fun and even though I was still stressing, it was better with you around. :)
> 
> 2.) My friendo and beta [Marbleunderthefridge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnderTheFridge), a big thank you to you because I still just sit here wondering how you managed my lack of commas and semi colons and saying the same things over and over again. I'm in awe of your focus and hard work while also jealous of your profession lol XD Thank you for managing to make this story look readable, I'm not sure I would have gotten it figured out on my own.
> 
> 3.) Also a big big thanks to [Rancid_Rat6186](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rancid_Rat6186) for helping me with weather related things because I've never had to deal with anything but minor earthquakes in my lifetime or one very random monsoon while in Taiwan, and also being there to cheer me on while also juggling your newborn (And leaving anecdotes about him lol) I owe you! <3!
> 
> 4.) I also want to thank [Steve-Bucky-Stucky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chemical30) for cheering me on and just genuinely being awesome! I think your distractions really stopped a meltdown or two lol (As well as getting me thinking about TJ a lot more than usual nowadays! :P)
> 
> 5.) And last but never least, thank you to all my Hydra Husbands dumpster friends who know I'm a little too soft for some of the darker stuff those two get into but still encourage me to keep writing them being idiots. It means a lot to me and always will. <3 (This includes you, [StarSpangledBucky](http://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpangledBucky/) <3.)

  


It had been a good couple of months since the first time he entered the double glass doors with the little bell attached to it, alerting a ragtag group of siblings in their late teens to mid-twenties there was a customer, and it was why Brock’s frown got.. _frownier_ when a plate of some weird, _slightly_ healthier version of an English Breakfast is slid out in front of him. 

Every weekday was the same for the most part here in Summerhill. He woke up, worked out and showered, then headed into town to have breakfast before going to work. Lunch was similar, if T’Challa didn’t pack for two, and occasionally dinner if he was too worn down to bother with it when he went back home. It had been exactly the same way since he took over as the town’s new mechanic and started to frequent the only diner in town, yet there he was sitting with the wrong order before him and staring at it in disbelief like he was in a weird dream.

The meal was still laid out with various cuts of meat as well as eggs, toast, tomatoes, mushrooms, beans and all that, but some of it was cooked differently. Brock wouldn’t mind if he hadn't weighed himself recently and found a few extra pounds, gained from too many dishes loaded with pasta and thick rich sauces when he visited family (just so they could make sure he hadn’t joined some kind of children of the corn cult or something). Moving to a small town was kind of a stressor for them: he himself had no regrets, well ‘cept the part where he had to make sure his ass could fit in his clothes still when he came back.

When he glanced up to squint at who brought his plate over, Pietro was already across the room, a phone pressed to his ear with his shoulder and a towel draped on his opposite side. He slid Brock’s plate of scrambled egg whites, two strips of turkey bacon, whole wheat toast and a side of seasonal mixed fruit before Jack.

Brock was already cringing before Jack even set his newspaper down, tucked at the corner of a booth seat, long legs propped up on the red leather across from him and the moment he did, the man immediately frowned exactly like Brock expected him to. Jack looked around in confusion because Pietro already walked off and suddenly green eyes were locked in on him.

Brock dropped his eyes quickly, refocusing them on his plate of food. Or well, Jack’s plate of food he supposed.

He sat and waited a few seconds, glancing awkwardly Jack’s way to check if he was still looking but happily found he was back behind the newspaper again. Pietro seemed to have no idea what he did, and Brock finally managed to grab Wanda’s wrist when she passed by holding a pot of coffee.

“You haveta help me.”

Wanda’s brows shot up, her eyes roaming over his plate of food before going over his face again, “Weren’t you on a diet?”

Raking a hand over his face, Brock rolled his eyes. “It ain’t a diet, been just tryin’ to eat right alright? The weight seems to wanna stick around an- ”

“So you’re on a diet. Besides, isn’t that J- ”

“Exactly.” He hissed out, pushing the plate her way. “Take it to ‘im before he has a fit and stops baking lemon loaf, you know I’ll shoot myself in the mouth if he don’t offer it anymore because I ate his food. Seems like he’d spite my damn ass if I did that shit and while yer at it, bring my order over.”

She rolled her eyes and made a face to argue but glanced back hesitantly only to see Jack still buried in his newspaper and the plate at his table pushed away, a hand absently looking for the mug of coffee he was sipping at. Wanda huffed at Brock and slapped his shoulder just for good measure, “You’re lucky I love my brother or I would make you walk over there and change the plates yourself. Your big stupid crush is so childish.”

Brock balked at her. “I _don’t_ have a crush on anyone. Where’re we at, high school?”

“This coming from the man who can’t switch plates with someone, go away Brock.”

“Ya know, you were nicer when I was new.”

She smiled and pinched his cheek, “Well now you know better.”

He watched her pick up the plate and practically skip across the room to present it to Jack, paper lowering and a grateful smile spreading across his face. She filled his cup and said a few words, ringed fingers gesturing to his eyes before her hand squeezed his arm affectionately and he nodded looking almost embarrassed. 

Jack turned and their eyes met again tossing a partial wave before picking up a fork to eat, Brock only watching him, too dopey to react properly. Wanda strolled back with his food and set it down, refilling his own coffee cup, trying her best to look all innocent and nonchalant, “You should ask him out.” 

Brock shoveled a forkful of egg whites into his mouth, “Who?”

That got him another punch in the arm, rings hitting him just right that it stung a little.

“You _know_ who.”

A third body joined them, Bucky sliding into the booth space across from them. “Are we talking about Jack?”

“Shut up.” Brock frowned, shoveling more food into his mouth. 

He was attempting to eat his breakfast in peace and Bucky was laughing at him. Despite not looking up he knew Wanda and him were doing some sort of silent eye thing they do, they _all_ did it. He even saw Jack do it once, while his head stuck out of the kitchen service window when orders were backing up and he was in the back baking. He would do some sort of eye narrowing glare thing that usually never worked unless it was important, and then everyone was scrambling around like something flammable was lit under their asses. It was kind of fascinating, maybe. Sort of. 

Right now though, all the Fury siblings were assholes. Every one of them, even Jack because he could have brought his plate over, he ate free so it was customary to be a nice host, and he was the oldest of all the adopted kids. King of the Assholes, right there. 

Brock sighed to himself and bit into a slice of toast, it tasted dry and cold today.

Wanda had left and Bucky kicked his shin under the table, “Grow up. Get some balls and ask Jack out, he’s very interested.”

“Yeah no,” Brock waved a slice of turkey bacon his way and mused at the horrified look his friend gave it, “You said that two days after I arrived and told me to accept coffee with that Carol girl runnin’ the bookstore ‘member? You know how that turned out.”

Bucky rested back against the seat, adjusting the pinned sleeve of his arm with a roll of his eyes, “I didn’t _know_ she was into that stuff! I never went out with her and she shouldn’t have been hitting you with that after one whole vaguely implied coffee date, let a man settle in first. Jesus.” 

Chewing slowly, Brock squinted at him before he swallowed, “Thank God she did, so I wasn’t runnin’ outta town after we were serious or somethin’.”

Breaking out in a laugh Bucky shook his head, turning to the sound of the door jingling, and they both watched a young blond cop step inside looking way too eager for a simple cup of coffee. Beaming to himself, Bucky swept a hand to brush his bangs behind his ears and hover around the messy bun his hair was in before he turned to Brock.

“Trust me this time, I would never tell you to ask Jack if I didn’t mean it. I love my brother a lot more than I love you - and yup after so little time I do love you - so listen to me. Right now though, I think I want Officer Rogers to handcuff me.” 

“Ugh, Buck I’m _eatin’_.”

He watched his plea go ignored, Bucky giddily walking over to his beefy blond boyfriend and giving him a kiss, arm thrown around and being so sickly sweet it was hurting Brock’s teeth.

“How many times have I told you kids, not in front of the customers!” Nick shouted through the kitchen window, spatula in hand and held up threateningly with his one good eye glaring at the pair.

Steve immediately floundered, cheeks pinking as he raised his hands and backed off, Bucky giving him a look of surprise. “Sorry Nick.”

“Steve, you’re a grown man.”

“A grown man who knows when he’s going to get his butt kicked.”

Nick scoffed and went back to cooking, Bucky waving his hand at Steve’s holstered gun.

Steve shook his head, “Still applies. I’m not risking it, your dad was scary when I met him, and he’s still scary.” 

Hitting his chest, they moved to a corner table to talk. Brock shook his head over his food and checked the time; he had to open the garage soon.

*****

“So should I just keep rambling on to myself or are you finally going to make an effort to at least pretend you’re listening?”

Brock looked up from where he had been blankly staring at a car engine, the old radio on the shelf cutting to commercial. It was some stupid song that reminded him about some things he didn’t want to recall and his mind had wandered off. He gave his head a shake, glancing sideways towards Sam folding his arms over his chest as he leaned against the workbench in his grease covered coveralls, “Sorry, what’d ya say?”

Sam dramatically rolled his eyes as a smile spread across his lips. He turned to grab some tools, head tilted to the side, “Daydreaming again?”

“I guess,” Brock admitted with a shrug, turning back to the engine. “That song took me back somewhere.”

“Huh, I was going to poke fun at you about Jack but now you made it sad.”

Now it was Brock’s turn to roll his eyes, leaning forward a bit more under the hood, “Ain’t sad, just..dumb shit.”

It wasn’t like he had poured out his whole life story to the first guy that met him in town, because this was _Sam_ and he was a good guy. Someone that you could instantly have a friendship with, easygoing and gave you your space. Talking to him came naturally, even for a guy like Brock, which he found surprising the moment he was opening himself up without much effort. It didn’t help that they had history, as friends in high school, and now it felt like they just fell back in with the swing of things like nothing had separated them in the first place.

At the moment his friend gave him a careful look he could feel without turning his head up before heavy work boots sauntered out of his vicinity across to the other side of the garage, “Can’t say you’ve lived if you haven’t done dumb shit.”

Brock grunted in agreement, absently letting his foot tap away at the new song that came on.

“It is statements like that one that make me wonder why I accept you as my husband.”

Peeking around the hood, Brock shot a hand out to give a friendly wave to T’Challa strolling in between both parked cars, a mirthful expression across his face as Sam gave the man a long suffering look.

“Brock, do you see what I always have to put up with? Maybe I should add T’Challa to my list of bad ideas.”

Barking out a laugh, Brock shrugged, “You’d never dare do that, he ain’t out of your league Wilson, you’re outta his!”

“Oh! Is that how it is now?” Sam dramatically rolled his eyes up towards the roof, “Ganging up on poor old Sam. Just because he gave you that welcome basket doesn’t mean it was only his idea you know. I did buy the basket.”

Brock only exchanged a look with T’Challa, giving the man a wink before he turned to the engine, “Go have lunch, know yer too damn high maintenance when yer blood sugar gets low.”

Before a wrench was thrown his way, Brock watched T’Challa corral his husband away from the second car and they shared a warm embrace and a small kiss, lingering in their own world for half a beat before hands were held and they were walking out together.

He watched their backs disappearing down the street, an absent smile crossing his face before going back to the work at hand.

*****

Sam sent him off an hour early and he used the spare time to grab some groceries. 

He was thankful he didn’t have anyone looking in his fridge as of late or he’d be getting an earful and telling them in return that they can mind their own damn business. He knew things were getting better as time rolled on, a new space to carve out for his own with new people. Where he lived last was alright but there was something he didn’t like. Here, it felt different, smoother and at his own pace. Quiet despite the chattiness of Fury and his family of trainwrecks running their small but cozy diner as a unit, or the weekly knitting circle spreading gossip that was generally diffused or ignored. After all that went on, Brock really just needed to do everything at his own damn speed and not have to deal with bullshit that city life seemed to want to throw at him.

He was studying a box of cereal from the small selection when a very distinct voice belonging to none other than Jack, directly on the other side of the shelf, caused him to raise his head.

“Tony, we don’t need five of these.”

“Yes we do, I plan to make a healthier meal plan. Seasonal fare, going with the weather, everyone’ll love it.”

Sighing, Jack seemed to deliberate in his head, “No one’s going to pay for anything fancy or over the top. People come to the diner because they want fresh pies and breakfast all day. They want chili and soups, people that pass on through usually want home cooked meals. _Maybe_ you’ll get away with a butternut squash soup to go alongside the days we have potato soup but dad’s not going to give you a pass on anything more.”

“Jack, have you got no aim to get out of this jerkwater town? You have to think _big_! Expand your horizons and just go for it!”

“You only get big ideas when you’re high, you know that don’t you?”

Tony snorted, “That’s besides the point. Come on, I’ll find someone who agrees with me- ”

Brock went back to his cereal dilemma only to have that feeling of foreboding creep up against the back of his neck and Tony popping up around the corner.

“Aha! Here’s someone we can ask- wait, don’t ask him. Bias opinion when it comes to you, let’s move along.”

Brock chanced a glance over trying to look as nonchalant as he could with a bright yellow shopping basket tucked against his arm, Jack pressing a hand against his forehead and looking infinitely put out as he tried maneuvering Tony out of the area.

“Get your stupid squash and stop bothering people.”

“That’s not _people_ Jack, that’s Brock Rumlow. It was you who corrected me when I called him Mr. Cockatiel remember? Remember that time you spilled all the punch at the community picnic when he took his shirt off for that game of football and Peggy had to help clean your shirt with soda water because _I_ remember, Jack!”

Jack gave him an apologetic smile as Tony spluttered and waved his arms at the firm shoves he received, body going off balance and falling into a shelf of pancake and waffle mixes and receiving the ire of Mr. Odinson when he came to investigate the noise.

“This is a form of abuse!”

There were light chuckles at the other end of the aisle, Brock turning to see Thor leaning on the handle of a push broom watching the show, his brother Loki rolling his eyes at Tony’s dramatic exit.

Brock decided it was time to head home.

*****

Brock got back in one piece without anymore incidents with Tony or Jack. He was paying as he observed Jack practically dragging his sibling back to the diner and he couldn’t help letting his thoughts linger as the sky grew dark and everyone had tucked themselves inside for the night. Walking off the sidewalk he cut through an open field to the dirt road behind it that led up to a modest two story perched on a hill.

It still took him a few minutes to realize he _owned_ the place, most rooms still full of dust and cluttered with junk that was left abandoned once the elderly residents passed on. If he was still in the city a place like this remodeled would have been through the roof but here it was dirt cheap and Brock was definitely into that.

He elbowed a light on and nudged aside a box on his way to the kitchen. The fridge was an eggshell blue color, old and clunky and seeming like it was pulled from one of those 1950s model home catalogs. He had to brace a hand against the side, the new seal threatening to pull the fridge out of place instead of opening, but he liked the old thing too much to get rid of it. It continued to work well, kept everything cool and the ice box kept itself frozen. He had a new motor put in and was just simply too attached already. 

Everything needing to be refrigerated was put away, leaving the rest for later, Brock not in any mood to sort the rest and he let himself drop into a kitchen chair. His path was paved with a walkway of boxes making a border, one route went to the hall that led to the stairs, more boxes loitering up there, rooms shut except for the first one. Random bits and a couple of suitcases sat on the second floor with them, he just never had the urge to sort it all out. 

The second path went to a barren sitting room that was mainly a place to hold a television and a couch. Milk crates and a plank of wood worked as a table in a pinch after the elderly woman that was left from a couple living here had decided to keep a design he just couldn’t swallow. The place was quiet and Brock couldn’t help describing it as hollow, in a way; there were times he would turn on too many lights and have the TV loud, any kind of background noise to hide the unease of being in a new place alone. When Sam showed him the house he was excited to convert the rooms to something else, use the space for projects he never bothered with in the city because he had to put them aside for other reasons. 

Now though, it was only him anyway. The bed was set up, plus a small dining table where he could eat, the appliances he needed for now were all inspected and in working order. Eventually he would get the rest moved but for now, with a cold beer in hand and a sandwich from last night, he dropped on his couch and let himself forget about everything else.

*****

Humming along to the radio, Brock tapped his foot and worked at draining the oil. He heard Sam talking to someone outside of the garage but tuned it out; Sam would stop and chat with anyone passing by if he wasn't too busy with work. He pushed the tray along the ground to better catch the oil, wiping some he had caught on his fingers along the leg of his coveralls.

Going for the filter next, his eye caught a pair of legs approaching him from the side and he stared at them for a long moment. Definitely not Sam’s but they looked familiar..

“Brock?”

Brock rolled himself out from under the car, looking up at Jack holding a plate of something and towering over him. He just about managed not to hit his forehead as he raced to get to his feet, grabbing a rag off the toolbox to at least make an attempt at looking presentable. (He was pretty sure he saw Bucky slap a hand over his face and shake his head while he was talking to Sam outside but they could have been talking about something else. He _hoped_ they were talking about something else.)

“Hey, sorry I... didn’t hear ya walk in.”

Jack chuckled, glancing towards the radio and nodding a little in approval, “Could be the rock music.”

Brock glanced that way, “Yeah, maybe.”

There was a quiet pause, and Brock leaned back against the car door. He tried his best not to look Jack over and be obvious but it was pretty hard not to. He wore his hair back, like he always did ,but there was something different about his appearance that Brock couldn’t quite put his finger on. All Jack’s clothes were usually touched somewhere by flour, stuck with bits of chocolate or icing. Today though, his pressed khaki’s were neat and he was in a grey button down that Brock had only seen him once wear - at church, when Nick was walking out with his brood one time Brock had just happened to step out of the post office. They had caught sight of each other after Wanda was already waving his way, and Brock casually avoided not drooling over how handsome Jack looked. 

“Holy shit Jack, there’s a plate in your hand! Use your brains!” Bucky barked out, hand fanning his way and gesturing to the plate of what looked like banana bread, Sam trying not to laugh too loudly.

Frowning and rubbing the back of his neck, color rose across Jack’s cheeks. Brock thought it was really adorable. 

Clearing his throat, Jack moved the plate up and down lightly as if he was testing the weight of it, the item in question covered in cling wrap, “Yeah so, I was trying this new recipe for zucchini bread that I found, adding lemon zest to it, and I might have noticed you like that flavor in those morning muffins. I make so Bucky suggested using you as one of my guinea pigs..”

Brock stared at him, floored, as Jack held it out. He raised a hand only to pull it back after noticing how dirty they looked, “Uh, yeah sure I could test ‘em out. Later. I can let ya know in the mornin’?” 

Brightening Jack nodded, pointing towards the corner desk next to Sam’s private office, “Of course, I can leave the plate over there and just..get back to me about it whenever you’re free.”

Feeling his mouth twitch upwards of its own accord, Brock smirked, “Sure.”

Setting the plate down, Jack nodded. He hesitated before he let it go altogether, flashing a small smile and giving Brock a nod, “See you later Brock.”

Wondering what that was about, Brock could only watch him head out, Bucky giving his brother’s arm a punch and a look of helplessness before they both said goodbye to Sam and headed off back towards the diner.

After they had left, Brock found himself distracted, running the entire scene over and over in his head and occasionally glancing towards the bread itself. He wrapped up work a little later than he planned to because of it and skipped the idea of heading to the diner, just in case he was asked about if he tried it yet. Brock wasn’t sure he was prepared to see Jack‘s disappointment that he hadn’t eaten it and noted to himself to carry the plate home. 

Back at the house he took a shower and settled for an old black and white movie that already started, opting for a glass of milk instead of his usual beer with Jack’s zucchini bread. Something told him he’d be better off eating a real meal beforehand, but he propped his feet up on the makeshift table and leaned back, turning up the volume on the television again so the house sounded more occupied than it really was.

So maybe he was a little lonely. Yeah sure in the small amount of time here he had made good friends, even joined in from time to time during Sam’s weekly poker games, but he missed more personal touches. He missed coming home to someone: there was that stupid part of him wondering what it was like to love someone and be loved. Sighing aloud, he dropped his head back and glared in frustration up at the ceiling. He didn’t know what exactly he wanted anymore.

*****

Brock woke up halfway on the couch the following day with a sore neck and his body tense his body full of inexplicable tension. It wasn’t until his foot hit one of the milk crates and the plate wobbled that it all came back to him. The loaf was good, amazingly so and Brock was thrilled that he could tell Jack to add it to his collection: until the thought of talking to Jack came to him. He knew it was stupid, childish even..he barely knew Jack and there he was, unable to even talk to him like a normal fucking person. 

He ended up making his own breakfast and moping about in his underwear until he finally had to go to work.

It was nearing three when he felt someone kick him in the leg and all but readied to bean the person with his wrench, only to find Natasha staring him down with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Did I miss somethin’?” The second the words left his mouth he knew what the issue was.

“Why are you avoiding Jack?”

“I’m ain’t.”

“He is.” Sam added breezily as he walked by their pair.

Brock attempted to send his boss the deadliest of glares, only to be ignored, turning back to Natasha’s none too pleased expression with a roll of his eyes. “Did he send ya?”

“Of course not, if he knew where I was he would come over to stop me. So why are you avoiding him?”

Shaking his head, Brock went back to the engine he was working on, “I ain’t, jus been busy. With shit.”

“Fine then, I’ll send him your way at five.”

“Don’t send- ” Brock raised his head only to find her gone, and he shook his head knowing the alternative was going over _there_ and getting all of the siblings staring his way (on top of half the town, most likely). He didn’t need that kind of attention.

They probably wouldn’t be looking his way, in all honesty. So why was he so nervous?

He tried forgetting about it, until T’Challa showed up to collect Sam and the whole routine reminded him of the time. Promising to lock up, Brock began to busy himself with clearing all of his tools away and cleaning his hands off the best he could. Jack appeared a little after five, still wearing an apron over a pair of worn blue jeans and a very old black t-shirt. Despite how beyond stretched it was, the sleeves still managed to cuff around Jack’s biceps like it was a snug fit. If he noticed Brock checking him out, he said nothing about it. 

“Natasha said you wanted me to come get the plate. Was it that terrible?”

“I didn’t say that,” He huffed as he shook his head at Natasha’s nosiness. He was sure she wasn’t the only one in on whatever she was up to. Bucky was definitely working with her. “It was great actually, ate the whole thing in one sittin’. Guess I was hungry.”

Jack looked surprised, like he wasn’t expecting that answer, “Oh, well that’s good. I mean you liking it, not the being hungry bit.”

That pause they seemed to have came back and Jack adjusted a little, leaning in a bit against the car as he searched for the right words, “You know, Wanda or Piet could run you over some dinner or something to your house when we close if you like, so you’re not going to bed with only zucchini bread in your stomach next time.”

Something suddenly shifted in Brock, defenses going up. He stared at him, eyes narrowing a little as he stood his ground, “Listen, jus ‘cause I don’t come by don’t mean I can’t fix somethin’ for myself. It ain’t like it’s been the first time I skipped out on eatin’ there. I don’t need anyone lookin’ over my shoulder to make sure I got food in me, I think a guy livin’ out on his own can fix himself somethin’ to eat.”

Jack stared at him in confusion, “Sorry? I was only trying to be helpful- ”

“Well. You should keep that fer yourself, seems like you need that a lot more than I do livin’ in this place with nowhere else to go- ” Brock stopped himself, pulling back from where he was standing the second he saw the way Jack’s features screwed up in surprise and maybe a little hurt. He pointed to the plate on the desk instead, “Yer plate’s over there, I gotta close up so you should go.”

Jack stared at him a long moment and Brock had to turn his back on him, pretending to pack up more tools as he heard feet finally move, the plate picked up, before they receded out of the garage and away from the area altogether.

Throwing the balled-up grease rag in frustration, Brock kicked the filing cabinet next to him before hastily closing up shop and storming home. There was no reason for him to talk to Jack like that and yet he did, burning down the tiniest of chances he had to build any sort of friendship with the one person he couldn’t get out of his mind.

*****

Brock made it to work an hour earlier than usual, choking down black coffee and a health bar despite the sensation that it wanted to come back up immediately afterwards. He only had two cars to finish up today, but laying in bed staring at nothing while trying to sleep ended up just frustrating him and he decided to start getting shit done to keep his mind busy.

Sam came in and made a joke about ‘if you even left last night’ and Brock managed to chuckle at least a little. If anyone had told Wilson about what happened, he didn’t act like he knew.

Unfortunately he knew _something though_. A couple hours in, when he finally pushed Brock towards one of the dingy office chairs to have a break, two mugs of coffee waiting for them before he dropped into the second chair with a carefully leveled look.

“So what’s happening?”

Taking the mug in hand, Brock was already shaking his head as he stared at the chip on the far end, “Nothin’.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been lost in your head since I’ve gotten here, like the first few days when you started working.”

Brock leveled him with a stern look. “Is that a problem?”

Giving him an equally firm glare, Sam frowned. “It is if I got a mechanic who ends up making a mistake and hurting himself. I need you to focus Brock,” He sighed, leaning back against the tattered foam backrest of his chair. “I know I never meant to put you to work so soon after you moved here. I did want you to take a week and get your home settled and introduce yourself around, but then there was that mess of cars Clint towed in from that huge accident and I needed you. Nowadays I do rely on you a lot because you’re always there to help, just like the first day. When you called outta the blue right after T’Challa and I had gotten married it was like fate put us back together, you know? You were looking for a new start and I needed help to keep mine, I knew your abilities so of course I wanted you here if you were interested in a small place like this.”

Dropping his head to the side, Brock rubbed at his neck, “It ain’t that bad and you know it, Wilson.”

Sam raised his brows after taking a steady sip, “So, what’s up?”

Brock looked off out of the mouth of the garage, the street was deserted but he could see a lot of cars were parked out in front of Nick’s, silhouette’s of customers and workers moving around before he turned away, looking down at his grimy hand, picking at the grease caked under trimmed nails. “Think I burned a bridge I didn’t ever wanna burn.”

“What did you say to Jack?”

Looking up again, Brock only got a sympathetic expression and he turned away with a bitter smile, “He was tryin’ to help, offered to send food my way when I worked late, or to the house. I know I’m still an outsider to a lot of these folks, I don’t bother goin’ to church on Sundays like the most of y’all and I get _stares_ of why I’m here in the first place. Somethin’ keeps me unsettled, I haven’t even finished unpackin’ the house if you wanna know the truth so he said bringin’ food to my house like I’m an invalid jus struck me deep. It’s my own damn problem and he’s a good man but I jus took out my crap on him anyway like he was one of ‘em. I told ‘im he could keep his help because he seemed to need it more than me. Bein’ as he’s stuck ‘ere.”

Sam drew in a slow breath, “Heavy.”

“Yeah,” Brock agreed with a nod, “I’m a fuckin’ idiot.”

Smiling at him, Sam finished off his cup of coffee, “Well yeah, you are - but you know what will fix it? Saying sorry like the man I know you can be. People make mistakes, Jack’s one of those guys who can accept an apology and move on. He’s not one to hold grudges. Just don’t insult any of his family. Ward did that - ended up paying for a broken window at Johnny's bar as well as a pretty steep bill for the ER."

“Wow..” Brock admitted before even really thinking about it. 

In his short time here, Brock had only _one_ interaction with Ward and it was definitely all he needed to decide everyone was right. The guy was a real asshole. He’d heard stories early on about some guys that made trouble from time to time because one of them was from a rich family or something, he wasn’t quite invested in giving a damn but Grant Ward’s name popped up with them. Brock figured that as long as he didn’t run into any of them anymore, he didn’t have to think about the consequences and now that Sam had told him what Jack had done, he was trying his damnedest not to let himself think about how much he really liked the idea of that.

*****

Brock sat himself down on a bench next to a small duck pond that branched out from a large man-made lake that grabbed his attention first week he was here. He hadn’t put much thought into his meal and hastily threw a banana into his coat pocket before making his way to the garage, giving himself an excuse he could always stop at the gas station convenience store for something if he needed. Now though, despite his hunger pains, he was too lazy to go that far and mainly wanted some time for himself.

He sat blankly staring at the water for a good few minutes, ignoring the chill breeze blowing past him. Leaves crunched beneath footsteps before someone joined him. A hot drink in a takeaway cup was pressed into his hands, and then a second later came a wrapped sandwich.

“That banana isn’t going to fill you up and you know it.” 

Brock gripped the items not entirely knowing what else to do; he could smell coffee and a hint of hazelnut laced in the brew, Bucky elbowing him lightly in the arm.

“What happened last night?” 

Lifting the coffee cup to his mouth Brock took a slow savoring sip, creamy and comforting, it felt like something he would think about if he thought of a place he’d call home.

“Said somethin’ stupid.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bucky tilt his head a little in thought.

“What’s new? You always say stupid things.”

They sat together in comfortable silence until Brock was about halfway through the coffee, “Jack was tryin’ to be helpful, I got defensive and told him he’s the one who needed help since he was stuck ‘ere.”

“Ouch, nice one.”

Brock nodded as he stared off, “Yep, stuck my foot deep in it this time.”

“Yeah you sure did, but Jack’s pretty resilient. You two’ll be talking in no time flat, -or barely talking. Maybe you’ll upgrade to full sentences one of these days.”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Brock shook his head, “I don’t know if I deserve him talkin’ to me the way I acted. All he’s been is welcomin’ and I jus spat in his face.”

Bucky nodded, “You know he gave up a culinary scholarship?”

Brock turned his way, brows going up in surprise, “He did?”

Nodding as he pressed his lips in thought over it, Bucky watched a family of ducks waddle into the pond, “Yeah. My dad, _our_ dad..he’s really a teddy bear. He wants the best for us, you know? He supports everything we do, no matter what. When I figured out I was gay, that I was in love with Steve, I was scared. I pictured him being disappointed in me and telling me to leave. Plus look around you, I can’t actually go anywhere to..like a shelter in the city or anything if Steve’s ma shunned him too. Jack told me I should tell him anyway.”

Looking over to his friend, Bucky smiled lightly, “You know what he did?”

Brock glanced back at him, “What?”

“Well first he said, ‘Is that it?’ then pretended to go back to reading his newspaper but then he saw how relieved I was and he just walked over and gave me a hug. I broke down and started crying, I didn’t think about how important it was to me that he accepted me and still loved me, but when he did that it just all came rushing out.” 

Rubbing his hand against his thigh, Bucky shrugged his shoulders, “What I’m trying to say is, it’s not just me. The twins were war children, starving and scared when they arrived as refugees. I had one arm, no one wanted me. Natasha was abused in the home Nick was investigating; he was a social worker before all this. Even Tony, despite his big talk about getting out of this town and making it big, he’s scared to leave us. Jack was the first kid Nick took in and that was by chance, he was scared and homeless, maybe seven, no one even knows how old he really is. How do you abandon a kid like that? No idea. Nick spotted him going through the trash and offered to get him something to eat and took him in, said it would be a few days while they figured out where he could go, or who his parents were, he didn’t even know his last name and.. well, you can see how that all turned out.” 

Brock kept miserably quiet but nodded that he was listening, fingers quietly unwrapping the wax paper around a roast beef sandwich.

“Look, the point of talking about Dad is.. he had a heart attack last year and he’s fine right now but Jack won’t accept the scholarship, he’s too freaked out something will happen like that again and maybe next time no one’ll be there to help. The girls are planning to go to college next year, as is Pietro. I’m still stuck on what to do; I want to be with Steve and Jack’s helping Tony with his own plans to make experimental dishes. He has a knack for weird inventions and robotics too so he wants to find a school that will help him in all that, something that will really hone in his talents.”

“I’m such an asshole.” Brock uttered out in disbelief.

Bucky scoffed, giving him a playful shove, “Yeah, we know this. So just talk to him, he’s kinda mopey. Think he misses you.”

Brock had taken a bite of his sandwich, almost choking on it, “He what?” 

“Nothing.” Bucky replied cryptically before picking himself up and holding out the paper bag he brought the sandwich in, “Eat that after. I gotta go before Nat comes looking for me, and you don’t wanna deal with her right now.” 

Lifting up the sandwich appreciatively, Brock definitely didn’t deserve his friends. “Thanks fer the food.” 

Bucky turned, giving him a small wave, “The food wasn’t from me, I was going to just bring your sorry ass a coffee. Later!”

Confused, Brock watched him jog off. He finished off the sandwich rather quickly and followed it with his banana before remembering the paper bag, only to open it and feel like crap again. Jack made lemon loaf today, a slice of it delicately wrapped up for him. He knew what the diner offered on which days, by now - and today was definitely not lemon loaf.

*****

The rest of his Friday was thankfully busy with Clint bringing in a few cars and some travelers looking for somewhere to eat and sleep for an overnight stop while getting their cars tuned up. It left him without much time to worry over being a shitty human being. 

Sam decided at the last-minute to stay late and Brock figured if he stuck around too they could get it done a little faster, so both of them could have a clear Saturday. T’Challa brought over fried chicken and sides, giving one stern look at his husband before food was being set out and they were forced to have a break. Brock didn’t mind too much though, the chicken was still warm and the pair of beers he brought with them were refreshing, despite how he was trying to cut down a little. He couldn’t help himself when it came to T’Challa’s dangerously addictive chicken, he was actually a little jealous of Sam right then. 

Nick sent Bucky over with some coffee and leftover blueberry pie when the diner wrapped up for the evening and all in all, Brock was able to get a good night’s rest feeling he was productive despite how he acted towards Jack.

Saturday morning Brock came to the cold realization he hadn’t really picked up much in the way of anything fresh the last visit to the grocers. He grabbed a pen, snatching up some paper and began to scribble a list and get it over with. He thought about a roast for dinner later anyway, maybe those little potatoes to add to it, and a few carrots. Perhaps he could get a box cleared out while watching another classic movie too while he was at it.

Brock skipped his morning work out routine, promising he would make it up to himself and showered before getting changed into a black t-shirt and some jeans, pulling on a red plaid shirt against the chilly breeze carried over from last night. He caught himself in the mirror and chuckled, he knew he wasn’t in the city anymore when he was pulling on the plaid, shaking his head as he stepped out of the house and made his way down the dirt road for Odinson’s. 

The store was pretty busy once he arrived, his list small enough that he only needed a basket for today as eyes roamed across the daily specials He picked up a few cans of tuna and ducked into the closest aisle he could when he saw Ward coming out from the far side pushing a small cart with an irritated look on his face. 

He quickly walked the opposite direction, thinking about the day Ward ignored him at the hardware store, standing in the way until Brock told him not-so-nicely to move and then glaring at him until Natasha had strolled over from who knows where and shoved the guy out of her way. It wasn’t that he was afraid of getting into another scuffle but he really wanted to go home and enjoy his Saturday. Chancing it with a jerk like that was not on his list of things he needed to do today.

Rounding the corner to head for the meat section, he collided with a shopping cart coming his way, looking up to see Jack at the other end as surprised as he was.

“Hey..sorry, I didn’t see you there.” Jack explained, giving him a polite smile despite the way he shifted uneasily, shoulders taut as he held his cart still and waited.

Brock froze. He _really_ didn’t want to do this here, but he owed Jack an apology and sooner was better than later.

“Hey. Look I’m uh..sorry ‘bout the other day. It was a real asshole thing of me to say and I never meant it, I jus got my own issues. It wasn’t you.”

Jack gave him a smile, shrugging a little, “I shouldn’t have said what I said. You were right, you are capable of taking care of yourself. I guess I was encroaching, Wanda says I get that way sometimes. Trying to offer help where people don’t need it.” 

Brock shook his head, waving a hand in the air between them, “You didn’t. You were jus tryin’ to be a decent neighbor and I got defensive. It jus’ gets to me but they’re my own issues to deal with and you never planned to step on that land mine.”

Just like Sam and Bucky had said, Jack’s nervous demeanor shifted out of him completely, smiling like he was relieved, shoulders relaxing and he stood a little straighter causing his presence to be that more distinct. Brock really liked him a whole lot better this way.

“How about we start over from scratch, I mean we barely say anything to each other anyway. I think we should change that.”

Brock grinned despite himself, “Now that sounds like a damn good plan to me.”

Tilting his head to follow, Jack turned his cart around so they could both walk side by side towards the meat section, Brock studying a few roasts sitting out, “So what dragged ya out here on the weekend, woulda thought you’d get yer supplies on a Monday. Or anytime it wasn’t busy like this.” 

Jack added a few different cuts of meats to his cart, “A lot of our supplies for the diner get delivered so we don’t have to shop, but whenever we need to top up we usually grab supplies on a Monday or Tuesday. This is for home, it’s my turn to go shopping.” 

Now that he was really looking in, Brock realized the cart was more filled for a household full of varying tastes. 

They carried on together not saying too much, people hustling and bustling around them and going by, enough chatter surrounding them to cover the both of them. It was nice this way, though he still felt bad for talking to Jack the way he did, while Jack noticed his small list and suggested ingredients that Brock could add to it without the meal prep being a huge hassle and still taste just as good. He still couldn’t believe how he acted, the man turning the other cheek like it was nothing. He himself held a few too many grudges.

Brock occasionally brushed arms or bumped into Jack’s side, or got to steal some glances at Jack whenever he was comparing labels or calculating things in his head. Up close like this for the amount of time, he could really admire how handsome Jack looked with his dark hair all slicked back and that curious scar running a line from the side of his mouth down to his jaw. It was stupid how much he wanted to touch it.

“Hm,” Jack frowned, turning a package of noodles over and over in his hand as if it would magically change into whatever he wanted it to be. 

Brock blinked at it, “Somethin’ wrong with ‘em?” 

Sighing in resignation, Jack placed the noodles in the cart, “Not really, just sometimes Buck likes eating these cheap ramen noodle packets instead of a normal meal, I think it’s got something to do with nostalgia when he was small. His favorite flavor isn’t here but it should be okay for today.” 

Brock didn’t swoon, he doesn’t do that. 

“You love ‘em a lot, doncha?”

Glancing over in surprise, Jack’s expression softened before picking up a couple cans of spaghetti-o’s, “I do, even if some of them eat like five-year-olds.”

“Hey,” Brock playfully pushed Jack aside as he grabbed a can or two for himself, “Don’t insult this stuff, it’s great!” 

“No accounting for taste, I guess.” Jack mused.

“Dick. And really, it’s terrible but sometimes nostalgia does happen every once in a while for me too.”

They wandered around for a little while, mostly waiting for the large line up to die down and for another check out to open up. Outside, Brock balanced his paper bag of groceries in one arm, assisting Jack with one of his, making their way to what looked like the family station wagon.

“Do you need a ride back? It’s on the way.”

Brock hesitated, embarrassed at the thought of Jack being even outside of his place despite all the boxes sitting inside, not out. He forced himself to nod, adding his bag in last beside all the others, “Sure, thanks.” 

He couldn’t think of anything all the way there, soft rock playing lightly in the background as his fingers tapped along the frame of the window. In no time flat they pulled up past the weathered and battered fence and onto the dirt driveway, Jack giving him a smile when the car came to a stop.

“Do you need help with your bag- ” Stopping himself with a wince, Jack raised his hand apologetically, “Sorry, old habits.” 

Brock gave his head a shake, more out of fondness than anything, “I’m fine, thanks.”

He went around to the trunk and grabbed his groceries before walking back to the front, giving Jack a wave goodbye.

Rolling down his window, Jack was thoughtful a moment before green eyes peered at him, almost hopeful, “See you around?”

Brock smiled. “Yeah, and thanks fer makin’ grocery shoppin’ actually somethin’ fun.”

“You just gotta be with the right company, that’s all.”

Watching the car reverse back onto the road, Brock lifted his hand in goodbye as he watched Jack drive off. He was definitely correct about having the right company, that was for sure. He took the steps up the porch, letting himself inside and for once didn’t feel so apathetic about being home.

*****

Brock woke up Sunday morning with the sun rising along with him, and bundled up to take a run alongside the lake before staring blankly at one of his black suits hanging off the front of his bedroom door staring right back at him. He had managed to get his clothes sorted out last night and finally quit living out of a suitcase..or three. He unhooked it and ran a hand along the sleeve as he laid it out on the bed; this was definitely one of his lousier ideas, peeling off his sweats to take a shower before changing into it and fixing his hair just right, chastising himself over and over again.

By the time he arrived to the church almost everyone was inside, which Brock was a little thankful for, tucking himself into a pew at the very back. Everyone had their attention turned up to the front as the sermon began and he scanned the turnout, recognizing a lot of familiar faces before his eyes rested on the back of Jack’s head.

There was a pang of comfort in his chest seeing him there, dressed in his own dark suit dutifully listening to what the pastor had to say as he sat with the rest of his family near the front right next to Sam, T’Challa and Clint. Clint was falling asleep, Natasha subtly jabbing him in the side with her elbow, and a small smile ghosted Brock’s lips: at least it wasn’t just him. 

After the service wrapped up, Brock decided this just wasn’t what he was ready for - especially when all he did throughout was stare at Jack - and tried to escape without being detected, only to have a near collision with Bruce Banner arriving to come inside.

Bruce ran Summerhill’s charmingly cluttered antique and repair shop that he seemed to have inherited; left to take care of the place despite just getting out of college and so young. Talking with him, you could tell he had an old soul through and through. Brock had poked his head in a couple of times: the place was a little small for how much it held, but it was heavily laced in nostalgia and curated with pride. He found he liked Bruce, as quiet and kept to himself as he seemed. The only other person Brock had seen get him out of his shell was Tony, of all people. 

Bruce adjusted his glasses, giving him a small smile, “I guess I should have expected someone coming out immediately after the sermon was over.”

Brock smirked, “Maybe. Hey, ya still got that old record player I was lookin’ at before?”

Brightening slightly, Bruce nodded, “It’s not _that_ old but I do, there’s some records I can throw in with it too.”

“Great, think I’ll pick it up sometime next week.”

Nodding to him, Bruce almost blanched at the crowd heading towards the door giving Brock a wave, “Sure thing Brock, I’ll clean her up and have her boxed and ready. Talk to you later.”

“See ya, Banner.”

Stepping outside, Brock was almost home free when he heard a chorus of voices calling his name and when he turned around everyone, especially Nick, was looking at him. He met eyes with Jack’s and they gave each other small nods.

“I didn’t know you came to church, shoulda told me - I’d squeeze you in with us!” Bucky crowed out in amusement, eating up whatever was so funny about seeing him there. Brock really loathed him right then.

Wanda reached over to pinch her brother’s arm, “Don’t be rude James, if Brock wants to attend a service he’s more than welcome to.”

“Is that what he was doing?” Pietro let out with a wink towards Tony who kicked at his sibling’s foot knowingly.

Nick shoved the pair of them from behind, “Both of you get your asses moving, we’re gonna have a crowd coming in like every Sunday and we have to check if the pork is ready.”

Brock tried his best not to react, watching the trio walk away while Natasha followed in step with Nick, Clint in tow with an arm draped around her shoulders. He turned back to the others, lifting his shoulder in a shrug, “Was curious.”

Jack smiled, “What did you think?”

Standing before him this close, especially when he was wearing a suit, Brock was trying his best not to have sinful thoughts about getting him _out_ of it. He swallowed thickly feeling the color flush along his face, “It was alright, not entirely sold but it wasn’t as bad as I reckoned.” 

Snorting loud enough to receive some stares, Bucky tucked a hand over his mouth and Brock punched his arm reactively.

Steve had come along to join them, Peggy and Sharon arm in arm together laughing about something before giving Brock a wave.

“Fancy seeing you here, Brock. How did you find church?” Peggy asked with a charming smile. Brock liked Pegs, sharp and witty. She was one of those people who would never chastise him if he couldn’t deal with Sunday sermons.

“You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t come back next week.” He replied casually, the group breaking out into laughs as Bucky draped an arm around him.

Peggy smiled, “I’ll forgive you if you come by next Saturday for some tea and cake, we haven’t gotten a chance to have our weekly chats lately.”

Their weekly ‘chats’ consisted of playing cards and foregoing tea for shots at noon. Maybe a small bit of gossip, but hey, when in Rome.

“Sorry, Sam’s been tyin’ me up with work. I’ll definitely try for Saturday.” 

It was then, Carol showed up, her eyes gleaming as she took in Brock in his suit. “Why hello Brock, long time no see.” 

Brock smiled, albeit forced, feeling self-conscious and giving her a slow nod as he tried his best to be cordial, “Carol. Nice seein’ ya again.”

She turned to Sharon, “You know, I keep waiting for him to come back to the shop but I haven’t seen him since.” She looked at him with a playful frown, “I miss your visits. Maybe you could come by tomorrow.”

He could feel the heat creeping up his neck, worried that not being interested would cast him in a bad light when all he was trying to do here was have his peace. “Been so busy with the cars.” He said with a deliberate offhand shrug. "I'll try and see what I can do.”

Brock held his breath, anxious about being called out on it. Fortunately, Carol and Sharon only nodded with approving smiles before conversation turned to gossip about something else. 

He felt eyes on him though. Jack was watching him with an unreadable expression. He licked his lips nervously, his pulse jumping a little faster. It felt like Jack was in his head, trying to read every secret he was hiding. It was an odd sensation but it gripped at him tightly. He turned away when it was too much, taking a little solace from the weight of Bucky’s arm resting on his shoulders as he chatted with Steve.

Whatever it was, the sensation lingered around him for the rest of the day after they parted ways and continued to do so as he pored over an aging recipe book he found in one of the abandoned boxes before officially deciding he’d unpack a few more boxes to round the evening off.


	2. Chapter 2

Monday was busy for them at the garage. Brock worked through lunch, sending Sam off to have a meal with T’Challa, he just wanted to get out of there on time. He had plans to arrange some boxes for his bedroom and make a few calls to family, it was better getting it over with than making them wait and worry. 

A breeze softly blew past the entrance and he could hear the light sound of the chimes attached out front over the low drone of classic rock playing away on the radio. Humming to himself, he could feel the transition of the day smoothing out for him, almost missing the footsteps that had entered a few feet in before stopping. Brock could feel eyes on him as he finished fastening a hose clamp before drawing away to stand upright and turn towards the entrance to see Jack standing there. Even away from the sunlight he could see the pink at his cheeks; it was really something he liked seeing on the man. Jack had a white take away container in his hands. Brock’s mouth curled up into a smile.

“Sam mentioned you let him go eat with T’Challa, so I figured I’d fix you up something you could eat quickly, or not right away if you’re really that backed up..” 

“Nah, I can free up a few minutes if yer comin’ over to bring me lunch.” It’s not flirting, it’s just talking.

He took a quick look over the engine and then returned back to Jack, shaking his head as he accepted the food, gesturing him to take the stool sitting beside him, “Much appreciated.”

Jack took a seat with a casual shrug of his shoulders, “I had a break, figured I could kill two birds with one stone and bring you something while also dropping in to say hi. If I didn’t, Bucky would’ve anyway.” 

Popping the cover, Brock marveled a moment over homemade thick cut fries dusted in garlic salt and herbs, nestled around a house special burger that was fully loaded and calling his name. It definitely wasn’t his regular order on his route to dropping a few pounds but when he raised his head to say something, Jack was already serving him with one of those looks he gave his siblings.

“You better eat that: I made it.”

Gesturing towards it with a weak attempt at fighting off his urge to stuff his face, Brock sighed, “You know I’ve been packin’ on a few pounds- ”

Jack only pushed the food closer to his chest, Brock staring down at it when the corner bumped into him. It smelled incredible, the scent of freshly fried potatoes and grill-charred meat hitting every button inside of him, the special sauce he grew to love oozing out slowly at the side like it was taunting him to have a taste. 

He finally gave in and picked up the burger, ignoring the heft to it so he could take a big bite. As much as he wasn’t thinking about food prior to Jack’s visit, his stomach was glad for it now, Brock almost groaning in pleasure at how the burger hit his taste buds He had stupidly punished himself for the extra few pounds when really, hamburgers were one way to his heart.

Temporarily forgetting Jack was even there, eyes shifted his way when his friend cleared his throat as he rose out of his seat. “I’ll leave you and your burger alone then. But you got-. ”

Brock stared at him in confusion, not ready when a finger swiped across the corner of his mouth. It took an enormous amount of energy _not_ to instinctively wrap his lips around it. Mortification sank in as Jack withdrew his finger, holding up evidence of the diner’s house sauce before he picked up a napkin to wipe his hand, only deepening the blush Brock could feel climbing up his face.

“Sauce.” Jack let out lowly, shifting his eyes downwards.

“Thanks, Jackie. Jack. Sorry.”

Glancing up in surprise over the new nickname, he smirked when Brock’s mouth shifted into a smile, thumbing at the exit. “I should get going, dad’s probably wondering how long it takes to drop food off.”

Brock nodded, “Right, yeah. I still got a couple cars in line myself. Thanks for the food, I owe ya.”

“That reminds me.” Jack scratched at his scar, contemplating something. “Dad, uh, Nick said to invite you over for dinner on Saturday. He’s usually at the diner all day but he’s got some stuff to do and said it’s about damn time he invited you over. You okay with that? Half of us won’t be there so it shouldn’t be too noisy.”

“Will you be there?” It came out before Brock could really think too much on it, stuffing fries in his mouth to avoid saying anything else too stupid.

Jack’s brows shot partially up, smile warming across his lips, “Yeah. Yourself, dad and me, maybe Wanda. Buck was supposed to be home but he’s got plans. The rest will be working, so it’s pretty relaxed.”

Brock wasn’t too sure about the words Nick and relaxed in one sentence since he’d seen the man explode at a few people. Like the time Peter Parker’s aunt May was on some kind of blind date and she tried breaking off early when she realized it wasn’t going to work out. Brock was keyed to say a few words when the date was having none of her rejection, but Nick had been watching the whole scene himself and practically dragged the stranger out of his seat in front of everyone to toss his ass towards the door. The guy decided to cut his losses and get out of town while he still could.

Still, if the man didn’t make you feel a little wary, you were one of the lucky few.

Considering the offer, Brock finally nodded to Jack, noticing his muscles ease, “Sure. Figured it could work after droppin’ by Peggy’s fer lunch. What time?”

Jack glanced up in thought, “Around six? Just don’t get too loaded before dinner.” 

Giving the man a shove, Brock turned back to his food, trying to hide a smirk, “Fuck off.”

*****

Lunch with Peggy on Saturday was something he had missed doing. After letting her know about his plans to go visit the Furys for dinner, she forwent the alcohol for actual tea despite the raise of his questioning brow.

“You’ll thank me later, Darling. You don’t want to show up at their house half trolleyed if you have your eye on Jack.”

Brock nearly choked on his slice of cake, yanking the fork away from his mouth. Unbothered, Peggy leaned in and gave him a firm thump against his back before returning to her food. 

“Ain’t nothin’ like that Pegs. We’re jus friends,” he grumbled, pressing a sheet of paper towel to his mouth.

“Mhm, and I’m the queen of England. Hurry up, you have to go change soon.”

He turned his head to her grandfather clock and nodded in agreement, ignoring the way she smiled at him as he ate a tiny bit faster than usual.

He took too long picking out a shirt to go with his trousers and almost forgot the blueberry pie he had bought on his way back that was sitting in his kitchen. He had no idea why, as he walked towards Jack’s home, he was feeling a little jittery and nervous. It was only a dinner, nothing special - so why did his collar feel like it was attempting to choke the life out of him?

It took less time to get to the Furys’ than he had planned, standing before two large gates sitting open that hosted a vast acreage of farmland. A long dirt road dotted with large northern red oaks led to a spacious plantation style home that seemed almost daunting; additional workhouses dotted along the side near a brightly painted red barn and what seemed to be stables a little farther at the back.

Brock sucked in a deep breath and exhaled evenly, glancing down at the covered pie in his hands before beginning his trek towards the wrap-around porch that held the front doors. He admired the beds of flourishing flowers on his way up the steps, reminding him of his Nonna. To his surprise the front door opened just as he reached it.

Jack greeted him with a small smile, green eyes particularly soft against the sunlight now that they weren’t in the garage. The natural light filtering through Jack’s hair gave it a rust colored tint that gave Brock a new perspective he appreciated, though he didn’t really mean to gawk.

“Wow, you dress that well to Peggy’s?” Jack commented, taking him in as he looked over his stiff formal shirt and trousers. He himself had on a more casual shirt, top two buttons undone with dark suspenders and a pair of beige slacks that seemed to be dusted with soil around the thighs. 

Despite the more informal attire, Brock had to tell himself a couple of times to stop staring before he finally stopped. He frowned at himself and tried to hide it away, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I do, but today I went home and changed fer dinner. Gotta look nice when invited to a meal.”

Jack rolled his eyes dismissively, stepping back into the house to let him in, “It’s nothing serious, just a dinner. Manners need not apply.”

“Yes they do.” Wanda snipped as Brock entered. She approached him with a smile as well as a quick hug, “You look really nice, Brock. Don’t listen to Jack, half the time you’d be hard pressed to see him wearing a shirt if he’s working outside.”

Brock turned to look Jack’s way, ignoring the warmth climbing at the back of his neck and Jack shrugged. “I’m _outside_. It gets hot, better than sweating through my shirts.” 

Wanda only crinkled her nose at him, hooking her arm around Brock’s to lead him through to the sitting room. He followed her lead, Jack falling in line behind them after closing the door. 

“Wanda, where’d you hide the bourbon this time?” Nick made his way out of the kitchen with a dish towel draped over one shoulder and a glass in his hand containing a couple cubes of ice. He paused at the same moment Brock did. “And look who finally got his ass over to my humble abode.”

Brock grinned, holding his hand out as Wanda took the pie for him, “Thanks for finally invitin’ me.”

Nick only waved the hand away, “None of that fancy crap. Figured I should finally get you to come eat with some of us, I always like knowing the new guys around town. If I like them.” 

His gaze switched to the pie and Wanda tsked at him, “Don’t even think about it! And your bourbon is safe, you can’t have it until after dinner. Doctor’s orders.”

Scoffing, Nick set his glass down on the already set table in the adjoining dining room and poured water into it from a pitcher. “Doctors, what do they know? _I_ know me. That should be enough.” 

Jack turned his head so only Brock could see him making a face, “This is what we have to deal with.”

“Jack, you better keep your face from making those expressions I know you do, unless you want a smack upside your head, don’t think I won’t. Go and stir the gravy.”

Huffing like a scolded child, Jack strode into the kitchen. Nick gestured to the dining chairs and Brock sat down promptly into the closest one, watching him do the same at the head of the table, a weary groan of fatigue escaping as Nick leaned back and sipped at the water. Wanda went back and forth placing out all the food and a pitcher of iced tea, encouraging Brock to help himself whenever he wanted to, and conversation was easy once everyone seated themselves to eat.

The trio seemed to get along so well, Brock quietly observing as Nick gave Wanda a soft squeeze at her arm and a proud smile when she took his plate to dole out food for him. She only pressed a kiss to his temple in return while Jack pretended not to be the same way, subtly putting the water pitcher closer so their father would happen to see it eventually and pour himself more. 

It gave Brock a twinge of homesickness despite everything: he got away from New York for a reason. Maybe one day if he had a family he could use the Furys as an unconventional example, the idea giving his stomach an odd sensation.

“You okay there, Brock?” Jack wondered, passing him the bowl of mashed potatoes when he still hadn’t began serving himself yet.

“Yeah, m’great. Just havin’ a good day. Got up fresh and early, worked out a little, finished some errands, caught up with Peggy and now I’m ‘ere in front of a delicious lookin’ meal.” He gave Wanda an appreciative smile as she sat herself back down across from him, nudging the basket of bread his way and edging the plate of roasted chicken towards her sibling.

“Wanda’s an amazing cook, we’re lucky.” Jack agreed.

“Don’t get used to it.” Nick chided with a smirk, digging into his own plate.

Brock barked out a laugh as Wanda reached over and softly hit Nick’s hand in retaliation, “Be nice.” 

Despite sounding cold to an unknowing observer, Nick was actually very kind and genuine. Brock had known about it, seen it at times, but it was nice just to be at the table without Nick forcing the interactions. He was brutally honest and Brock liked that, it seemed that they were similar in a way and their banter back and forth went well. 

He found himself admiring the man a lot more. Jack seemed more at ease and inclined to be sharp tongued around his father than Brock had seen before. Still upholding those natural, old fashioned manners, Jack was much more open as time passed, telling funny stories that even made Nick break out in laughter and teasing his sister about the new young doctor that only arrived a mere month earlier. 

For Brock, it was a change from nights spent with dinner on the couch in front of the television, he really didn’t mind this.

When dinner had finished, Brock offered helping with the dishes and getting the leftovers put away, Nick retiring to the sitting room with a newspaper and Wanda fussing over him while Jack walked alongside him with a stack of plates. She came into the kitchen a few minutes later and shooed Brock out, telling him to go take a seat and they’ll be out with dessert.

Brock took the chance to use the restroom down the corridor and was headed back to join Nick when he paused in the hallway, Wanda saying his name from the kitchen. He realized Jack was still there with her and Brock quietly ducked away to listen curiously as she began laughing and making a noise of protest.

“I’m just saying, it’s good to see you have an interest in someone else besides your family. I know your beautiful adorable sister is always going to be at your side, but Brock’s great.”

Jack chuckled, the sound of a glass gently bumping against another, “You are beautiful and adorable, but it’s just a friendship. He’s really..nice. I like him.” He paused as Wanda made a small sound and he was laughing, “Stop it. I can’t be friends with anyone, can I?”

“If you’re going to make fun of me for my doctor, I’m not stopping about your mechanic!” 

“It’s not at all like that and you know it. Brock’s interesting, I like being around him.”

Brock couldn’t help smiling over that, shoulder leaning into the wall a bit to listen closer, though he knew he shouldn’t be. He just couldn’t help himself. 

Wanda’s voice softened suddenly, “I know, I think he feels the same way about you. Even papa likes him and you know how ornery he is about people. You should ask him to the pictures, both of you would have fun!”

“I don’t know if he would be interested in that and besides, we have so much going on out here I couldn’t- ”

“ _Yes_ you could and he would say yes! You deserve to take a day off and go to Roseville, catch a movie, maybe a meal. Just the both of you, he needs a break too. Sam always tells me about how hard Brock works, how he’ll stay late and won’t complain about coming in on the weekend if he has to. He’s really glad to have him but sometimes he worries about how he seems to be distracting himself with all the work - and I worry the same about you.” Wanda implored.

Feeling guilty, Brock backtracked so he could make his arrival heard. Opening the door then closing it before faintly humming as he walked towards the sitting room. Nick glanced up from his paper, seated with his feet up at a favored armchair before his gaze fell back onto the words on the pages.

Wanda came in with a tray of coffee that also carried a glass of bourbon, setting it down on the table, Nick immediately taking the drink with a smile towards her. “Thank you, I’m going to make it worth my while.” 

Brock smirked, turning Jack’s way when he came out of the kitchen with expertly balanced servings of blueberry pie on a tray too small for four dessert plates, handing them out while Wanda was pouring the coffee. Brock served himself some milk and sugar, the group settling in.

It didn’t take Wanda very long to say something though, her eyes glancing towards Jack before turning Brock’s way, “So there is this new psychological thriller, mystery type of movie at the Broadway down in Roseville that Jack’s dying to see, has he asked you to go with him yet?”

Jack huffed into his cup, “Wanda..”

“Oh come now, Jack. You should ask! No one else wants to go, Brock may want to.” 

Jack cast his eyes down towards his half eaten pie, “I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t.”

Wanda only gave him a look, “You don’t know unless you ask.” She glanced Brock’s way, “He loves reading about detectives solving cases and the mysteries of the world.”

“Okay, now you’re embarrassing me.” 

Nick seemed to find some sort of amusement out of the whole thing, trying to keep his face straight as he continued to stare at his newspaper even though his mouth was wavering a bit. 

Brock finished off his pie and took a few sips of his coffee, “I wouldn’t mind if ya asked me, Jack.” He looked over, “I mean, I ain’t really got a head for mysteries or nothin’, more of a action type of guy but dunno, might be fun. In good company nonetheless.” 

Clapping her hands together, Wanda beamed, “There! See Jack, it wasn’t so bad!” 

Jack shook his head at her but he was smiling, turning Brock’s way, “Sounds great, next Saturday then? We could catch it after one sometime and then maybe go have an early dinner- ”

He stopped and changed his attention onto Nick, “Shoot, are you going to need me on Saturday? Sorry, I completely forgot.”

Nick snapped his paper to straighten it out, glaring over the top towards Jack, “You better go out on Saturday and enjoy it like _I’m_ enjoying my half day off with my ass in this armchair and my nice glass of bourbon. We clear?” 

“Yeah pops, crystal.” Jack mused.

“Good.” Nick said as he went back to his drink and took a savoring sip, swirling the liquid with the accompanying cubes of ice, “Now, I think Brock needs a refill of his coffee and Jack, you need to finish off your pie and then take our guest to sit out on the porch. The weather’s decent for once.” 

Before anyone could say a word, Nick went back to his paper and held it up higher as if blocking everyone from interacting with him anymore.

Jack nodded, taking the last couple of bites left on his saucer. Wanda quickly rose up and began to collect the dishes, “I need to clean up, so you two have fun.” 

With that Jack pulled himself up from off the couch and Brock followed after him after their coffees were topped up, both carrying their cups out towards the back of the house, stepping through the kitchen and out the screen door. The sun was almost down, faint sounds of animals in the barn across the way could be heard in the air and there was a breeze, but Nick was right, it was actually pretty decent. Brock dropped himself down on the porch swing while Jack chose to lean himself against one of the two large pillars bracketing the steps leading out to the farm, facing him.

“I’m sorry about that mess inside, you really don’t need to humor me about the movie.” Jack let out, setting his coffee down on the railing before folding his arms across his chest. 

Brock smirked, “It’d take more than that to pressure me to do somethin’ I ain’t really wanna do. Believe me, I definitely don’t mind goin’.” 

Jack’s shoulders seemed to ease and he nodded to him, turning to lean his back against the post and look up at the sky. They lingered like that for a long comfortable moment, occasionally taking slow sips from their mugs but mostly staring upwards.

“You know, bein’ out ‘ere I thought I would hate it.” Brock leaned back against the soft wood of the swing, mouth quirking upward. “I jus assumed I’d miss the sounds of things in the city. Cars, people; music playin’ from houses or on the street, maybe from some store, the typin’ of keys on a computer or even the trains. But honestly, I don’t. Sometimes frogs and crickets are all I hear while layin’ in bed and I don’t mind it one bit.”

Jack made a small hum of agreement, “If I’m not thinking too much, it’s generally what I fall asleep to. That or one of my radio dramas. Been hooked on those ever since I was a kid, I still listen to them often if I’m not reading something, mind you.” 

“Yeah, know the feelin’ on thinkin’ too much.” Brock mumbled out, not entirely thinking it through, not until Jack glanced his way, all attention returned.

“Yeah? What’s got you thinking too much?”

The warmth Brock had around his face through the first bit of his visit came back again, trying to match the heavy gaze of those green eyes on him but feeling the heat curl upwards around his ears. He couldn’t really put together what it was about Jack, why he was so different compared to everyone else. The community was welcoming in their own way, but Jack’s way got his attention a lot more than anyone else ever could.

Brock shrugged his shoulders, “Nothin’ much. Jus movin’ out ‘ere was a last minute decision. I was in a bad place in my head, well I didn’t know I was. I just sat in this rut and couldn’t get out of it and my family, I love ‘em swell but they ain’t like me. . I jus needed my space, to get away and make a home fer myself. Ya know?” 

Saying it out loud like he did, Brock felt like his story was rather foolish than amazing. Like some kid with money running away from his problems than a man really carving a life out for himself. He had a place he owned, in a way, he had a great job and family that seemed to be proud of him. Things just went a little ass-up one fateful day and he couldn’t deal with the fallout. 

Maybe it was premature to take such a leap but people were warm to him here, welcoming, and he knew he had support like Sam and Buck. Maybe even Jack and even Wanda are there for him too but he knows no matter what, he has to put a little more effort into fixing himself, because Sam was right. He couldn’t continue to bury himself in work and avoid everyone when he felt like shit.

“I don’t _know_ , know.” Jack admitted with a wince but he smiled afterward, hopeful, “But I understand your need to find your own way. Your own voice. I feel Summerhill can be that place for you.”

His eyes lingered and Brock felt something crumble in his chest, like his resolve had given up on him, the space between them suddenly too much and he swallowed thickly.

Jack’s gaze dropped away, turning his attention towards the farm, “Or at least I hope it can be.” 

Brock stared after him, drinking down the last of his coffee before pulling himself to his feet. “I think it can be.” He paused when Jack turned his way again, “I should probably get goin’. I try to wake up early enough fer a run if I can on Sundays, gives me time to get everythin’ put together in a list for the day.”

He left out that the list usually only got half finished , and he mainly laid on the couch and sulked over nothing in general. Though, lately he’d been feeling less inclined to do that and more to actually being productive with things, like his house.

Taking his mug for him, Jack nodded and they went back inside. Nick was long gone, and Wanda folded up on the couch with a blanket over her feet and some movie playing on the television. 

Brock gave her a small wave when she turned their way, “Thanks for dinner, let Nick know I said thank you to him too. I enjoyed it.” 

“You’re welcome to join us again, Brock. I’ll tell Jack to ask you when dad has time off again, it was nice to have you with us.”

“I’d appreciate that, goodnight Wanda.” Brock said in earnest as he and Jack made it through to the front.

“You too!” She called after him.

Jack opened the front door, holding it while Brock slipped his shoes back on, “Do you need a ride out there or do you just want to meet me on Saturday?”

“I can meet ya, ‘round half past noon?” Brock asked as he stepped out onto the porch, turning to look back.

Draping himself against the frame, Jack nodded, “That’s perfect. I’ll see you then. Have a good night, Brock.”

Brock tried to ignore how he suddenly felt affected by the stance, almost tripping over the steps before him, turning his head back to his feet before he made an ass of himself. He grabbed the step railing just to make sure that didn’t happen again and raised his hand in a wave after as he started off, refusing to look back just because. “Night.”

He walked back as quickly as he could, neighboring homes just beginning their wind down, porch lights going out or people heading inside. His mind wandered about too many things; the dinner; how he presented himself; what Wanda meant when she was talking about him. 

Mainly though, he thought about Jack, taking the two steps to his own porch and letting himself in. He didn’t bother with the lights as he made his way past a trail of boxes and up the stairs that still needed a good dusting. Brock slipped out of his shirt and eventually his trousers, opting to just stick to his boxer briefs while crawling into bed. 

He shifted onto his back and laid out in the middle, staring up at the ceiling and looking at absolutely nothing. He really wasn’t even sure what he was trying to find in the long run, thinking too much again and already knowing he wasn’t going to be able to get much sleep out of the night.

*****

“Hey Brock,” Sam mumbled, mouth partially full as they sat together at the side table for lunch, “if you’re free on Saturday, T’Challa and I are holding a little get together. Weather permitting, either some grilling or something else indoors. You in?” 

Brock took a bite of his sandwich, still partially covered in the wax paper T’Challa had wrapped it in, his eyes lingering across the way to the diner while slowly chewing on roast beef. It was only Wednesday and he still hadn’t seen much of Jack this week despite thinking about him probably way too much.

“Hmm? Oh, I can’t, sorry. Goin’ out to see a movie at the Broadway that day. Probably won’t be back ‘til later that night.” He turned back to see Sam working on his own sandwich and eyeing him carefully. “What?”

Placing his food down, Sam casually raised his hands up in surrender before moving to help himself to more potato salad and spooning a couple helpings of it onto Brock’s paper plate. “Nothin’ at all. I’ve just been trying to figure out why you keep casing the diner the past couple of days and now I see why.”

Brock squinted at him, taking a sip of his water, “What’s that supposeta mean?”

Sam smirked, “I’m guessing you’re not going alone?”

“‘Course not. Jack- ”

“Ha! See, I _knew_ it!” His friend hissed out loudly, snapping his fingers between them like he had just solved the biggest puzzle known to mankind.

Brock frowned, “What the hell ya gettin’ all excited about?”

“Nothing!” Sam exclaimed with a grin, “I’m just..really happy for you.”

Polishing off his sandwich, Brock couldn’t stop scrutinizing him. Bucky had shown up on Monday and singsonged to him about the movies too. They were both acting like a couple of bozos. It was just a movie between two friends and these idiots were going on like it was a date. Which it sure as hell was _not_. 

“Yer actin’ like it’s a fuckin’ date.” Brock grumbled under his breath, his face feeling hot and uncomfortable. He didn’t know why he was doing that a lot recently, picking up a paper napkin to wipe his mouth.

Sam reached, gripping Brock’s forearm firmly and giving it an affectionate squeeze, “Sorry Brock, I do apologize. It’s just that, I’m excited for you, my man. Was worried about you not getting out too much and I know you’re a grown man who makes his own decisions, but I still wanted to make sure you were fine. You pretty much pulled up stakes and took off, that can be real heavy on a person. I can’t help thinking maybe this was all to avoid dealing- ”

Withdrawing his arm, Sam stopped himself and gave him an earnest smile, “We all consider you a part of this town now, everyone just wants you to be happy because we’re happy to have you here.”

Despite feeling a touch defensive, Brock hated how much he acted the way he did towards Jack. And Sam? Sam was just a good guy who would give you the shirt off his back if you asked him for it. He definitely didn’t deserve the sharp end of Brock’s tongue. 

Instead he nodded to him, picking up his fork and eating some of the potato salad, “Thanks Wilson, ‘preciate it. I know I ain’t one to talk out shit but m’slowly workin’ on things. Maybe it’s jus takin’ longer than usual but I’m gettin’ there..somewhere.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, unscrewing the cap off his own bottle of water and giving him a heartfelt grin, “You really are. It looks good on you, Rumlow. Real good.” 

They finished their lunch in amiable silence, listening to the radio, Brock thinking about the way Jack had been leaning against the porch post, staring off into the sky.

*****

Saturday finally came after such a long-winded drag of days for Brock. He could barely sleep in his excitement to go out for the day and spend time with Jack once again, getting up twice in the middle of the might to check if he had picked the right outfit and to make sure his radio alarm was set to wake him up. There was nothing wrong with being thorough. 

When he had gotten home on Friday, Brock gave his car a look over and a test drive around since he hadn’t much used it once moving into town. He may have also pestered Sam on the best way to get to Roseville despite there only really being one way to get there from here. He just had to make sure. He also wished he made more time to visit the diner prior to the get together like he usually would have but more cars meant more work and T’Challa made sure they were well fed so they were keeping on schedule. 

Brock was determined to be finished without needing to come in on Saturday and Sam knew it too, together they made it work and Clint and Natasha pitched in on the last couple days. Bucky dropped in when he could with fresh carafes of coffee, and the only sign of Jack was the fresh muffins or cakes he’d send along with his brother. If Brock didn’t know any better, he would have felt like everyone was trying to be a little bit extra just for him to be able to have a clear Saturday and, despite his best intentions, he couldn’t help feel grateful about it.

Finding the Broadway wasn’t that hard and Brock ended up being a little early, parking nearby and buying a pair of tickets for them. He wondered if Jack would want snacks or a drink, distracting himself with the movie posters the corner of his eye catching a familiar figure coming his way. Jack wore a dark blouson for the cooler weather, a soft looking dark green t-shirt , a worn pair of jeans, and a gentle smile. He looked really nice. 

Brock retrieved the tickets from his coat pocket and held them up, “I bought us some tickets already so we ain’t gotta fight the line. Didja want any snacks?”

“Good thinking,” Jack let out, grinning wider as they both stepped into the line to get inside “I’ll get the bill for our meal afterwards then. And nah, I’m good unless you want anything for yourself? My treat.”

Inside, the smell of popcorn prompted Brock to hesitate on declining a snack but ultimately kept his mouth shut despite the way Jack was watching him. It didn’t seem to matter too much either way when Jack bumped his shoulder and turned to the concession, ordering a medium tub for them to share and two drinks.

Frowning at the prices, Brock nudged Jack before he was able to pay, “If you insist on the snacks, only get one drink, I ain’t gonna drink much and it’ll be a waste ‘specially if yer offerin’ for early dinner.”

Jack studied him, slowly nodding in agreement, “Alright, fine. We can share one if you want?”

Brock felt his mind blank out a few long seconds before he smiled assuredly to him with a nod, “Yeah, that works. You carry it though, I’ll go find us some seats.”

He heard the soft chuckles behind him when he turned for the corridor that led to the doors of each theatre room, slipping out of his coat as he did.

Most of the back was already taken up and he managed to get two seats dead center in the middle area rows, resting his jacket over the seat next to him for Jack while others milled around him. Jack came in a moment later, napkins sticking out of his pocket, and Brock waved a hand his way, both of them settling in together and waiting for the film to start.

Picking up the drink Jack placed in the cup holder between them, Brock noticed there was only one straw and he hesitated a second, not sure if he was allowed to use the same one before just doing it anyway. “Yanno, I had a whole week to look into what this movie was about and I never did. I still got no idea what’s gonna happen. Sam said it was based on a book?” 

“It is,” Jack said as he ate a few kernels of popcorn, “It’s the first book of a series. Really interesting, if not a little dark. I read them all when they were translated in English.” 

The lights dimmed down to nothing and Brock stared at the screen as music began to play and a trailer started. He reached for some popcorn only to end up grabbing Jack’s hand like they were teenagers in some film he would have laughed at and they both gave each other a surprised look, Brock yanking his hand away immediately.

“Fuck, sorry.”

Jack grinned wide, colors of the screen glinting off his teeth as he shrugged, taking a sip from their drink, “No harm.”

He watched as Jack grabbed a handful for himself and moved to rest the tub in Brock’s lap, draping his arm on the armrest between them with their drink, hand close enough to reach for more popcorn and for Brock to feel the heat from his body. Despite the air filled with the scent of butter, he could smell a faint trace of pine on Jack and he swallowed thickly, slipping his own arm that was trapped between them against his thigh combating a sudden pang of self consciousness. 

The movie turned out to be a little bit of a mind fuck for Brock’s liking. He had to follow some names he had forgotten at the beginning and it was definitely dark just like Jack had said. In a way he liked it, but he was trying to figure out the mystery just as much as the main character was, taking him out of the story. He preferred movies where he could just sit back and enjoy the ride.

When the credits began to roll, soft murmurs rippled among the other patrons and Brock waited with Jack as they let most of the room file out before they got to their own feet. Jack paused only to pick up their garbage for the bin beside the doors, turning his head over his shoulder for Brock. “So, did you like it?”

“I don’t even know!” Brock let out in exasperation, laughing at himself over the honest truth, “I mean, I did but there was so much thinkin’ goin’ on. I was wonderin’ what happened in the past and where is this story goin’? Ya know? Then someone was dyin’ that I thought might have been up to somethin’ and it jus threw me off entirely! My mind was racin’ all over the damn place!” 

Jack walked alongside him, watching his reaction with a fond grin, “Yeah, me too. Sometimes when the picture is up on the screen they do it differently or you imagined it another way. It’s amazing, and some parts were switched or changed but I still enjoyed it. I would have been alright without that whole assault scene, though... even if it was in the book.” 

Brock agreed, “Same, I guess I wouldn’t have been in such a shock over that if I read the story but books tend to make me a bit sleepy.”

Chuckling with him, Jack draped an arm across his shoulders to press Brock close to his side, giving him a little shake as they walked out of the theatre. “Books can’t win them all. Now come on, let’s get something to eat, that popcorn did nothing for me.”

*****

Jack led them to a themed 50’s diner not too far from the pictures. They were promptly seated in a corner booth, Brock feeling the plush padded leather in awe, finding it a little more detailed than the one that Nick had, not that he was complaining. It was just..nice. He liked old nostalgic touches while Jack only gazed around, a smile teasing his lips as he inconspicuously studied every detail of the motif like he was memorizing it.

“Do ya c’mere often?”

Jack glanced over and seemed to snap back into reality. “I used to come here a lot, Dad..I mean Nick would take me when we first moved out here. Now with our own diner, none of us get too much downtime with him outside of our place,” He admitted as he opened his menu. “So, what’re you in the mood for?”

Brock watched him scanning the menu for a few seconds before he shrugged to himself. “Anythin’ really, I think I lost the war on that diet I put myself on. I need somethin’ that’s gonna fill me up and you brought us ‘ere. Whadda ya suggest?”

“You didn’t need to go on a diet anyway, you looked fine when you left, you’re fine now,” Jack muttered, still fixated on skimming the menu.

Brock glanced up from his own, feeling his face warm a little, sure it was from the lack of air circulating where they were, picking up his glass of water their waitress had dropped off. He took a careful sip through the straw and waited for Jack to say something, unsure of if he meant to say it the way he did, though Brock didn’t even know what he meant and whatever it meant, Jack wasn’t budging. 

“Maybe I’ll try out one of their big boy burgers.” 

“Are ya sure yer ready fer that after the movie?” Brock teased, chewing at his straw.

Jack glanced up with a gleam in his eye, lips forming a smirk, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m well equipped for the big boy.” 

A piece of ice got sucked through Brock’s straw and he choked on it, slamming the glass down and coughing with his chest against the table a few times before he could settle himself down again. Jack stared at him in genuine concern and Brock could only shake his head at him, “I ain’t sure if that was supposed to be a joke or not but you’re a dick.” 

Jack just shook his head, now grinning because Brock knew he did it on purpose. Unfortunately he also noticed a weird fluttery feeling in his chest any time Jack smiled like that, at him. He soon felt nauseous too, a deep sensation in the pit of his stomach, his hands feeling clammy as he clasped them together in his lap.

“Are you alright?” Jack asked pensively.

Brock nodded, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck, “Yeah m’fine. Jus thinkin’ about the movie.”

Jack was still staring at him, Brock wondering if he was contemplating asking about it, but was glad that he didn’t, their waitress returning to take their orders before hurrying off again to deal with other tables.

“So,” Brock clasped his hands together, staring down at the table surface, fingers twiddling against each other. “I heard you gave up a scholarship.” 

Drawing in a breath, Jack gave him a nod. His mouth softly shaped into a fond smile after a moment of surprise, the corners of his eyes gently crinkling. “I did. I’m guessing Buck filled you in?”

Nodding, Brock nonchalantly shrugged, “Yeah, I mean I ain’t meanin’ to pry. I jus thought it was nice, ya know?” 

Brows shooting up, Jack leaned in a little, “Nice?” 

All of a sudden Brock felt stupid admitting that, he tried shaking it off and not following through but Jack only stared, green eyes so soothing despite some of his focus lost from his bad one. He still never knew what happened and he was kind of afraid to even ask Bucky for the story, especially when there had been so many years passed between that moment and the scar. Jack still managed to put all his focus on him and Brock huffed out a frustrated laugh to downplay his comment.

“I jus mean nice. That you got someone you care for so much and all that crap n’they feel the same way. Kind of noble, or somethin'.” 

Jack laughed and at first Brock was offended but a hand slapped down on his and all his embarrassment shifted into a bloom of warmth, his entire body flushing slightly as he feigned a laugh and Jack dropped his head to fend himself off.

“Shuddap alright? Jus sayin’.” Brock muttered, slipping his hand away even though he really didn’t want to. 

“I’m sorry, Brock.” Jack hovered a hand over his mouth seemingly unaffected by where his other hand had gone prior, “Just, calling me noble? No, that’s not me.” 

“Well, ya think whatever ya like.”

“I only did it because it’s what I wanted to do. It’s what felt right, because I owe dad everything and if it’s easier to be here working alongside with him than worrying about if he’s getting the rest he needs, while I’m studying out of town, then so be it. I’d rather do that. I wanna help, not be noble.”

Brock could only smirk as he nodded at him, there was nothing else he could say and he only wished he had something like that to lean back on and feel that fulfillment too.

Their drinks arrived and conversation was stopped short, Brock watching the way Jack’s hand moved to wrap around the mug of coffee while he pulled over the tray of sugar. He hadn’t really had a moment to take in how _big_ they were, the thought of the man before him tackling large orders of baked bread, kneading laboriously while muscles flexed and flour wafted through the air..

He pulled himself out of his head, eyes cast back towards Jack’s cup. 

“And what about you? What got you from the big city all the way to Summerhill?” 

Brock swirled his straw in the thickness that was his vanilla shake, cherry placed aside on one of the napkins as he contemplated being honest with Jack or taking the coward’s way out again. Unfortunately, it was easier to lie; Brock just wasn’t ready to elaborate on his personal life that much.

“I needed a change and when somethin’ came up and Sam had been mentionin’ needing a mechanic I decided to do act on it. My lease was kinda up, my job was suffocatin’ me... I jus knew it wasn’t what I was gonna be happy doin’.” 

Jack only nodded as he listened closely, stirring a small bit of milk into his coffee.

“I jus figured, I didn’t need those things to keep it together, yanno? No more conference calls, no more neverendin’ meetin’s. I don’t need some impressive title or loads of money, jus enough to keep me comfortable. I really didn’t think about that ‘cause all I was thinkin’ ‘bout was work, even at home I was doin’ homework related to the job or thinkin’ about somethin’ fer it.”

“Then a friend of mine died and it made me realize I needed to enjoy life more, probably be less wound up that way. Then like always, when you least expect it, Sam appears like some weird fuckin’ bird or angel and mentioned he was lookin’ fer a guy to take some work off his hands since he’d just gotten married and I jumped on it. Now, here I am.”

“I’m glad you are.” Jack murmured, almost too soft and under his breath for Brock to hear but he did, unsure of what he was supposed to do with that.

They both took the lull in the conversation to take leisurely sips of their drinks, eyes trailing around them, Brock studying the far-off message board next to the door. He turned back when he felt Jack watching him, eyes too kind.

“So are you, here?”

“Am I what here?” Brock floundered in return.

“Happy,” Jack asked quietly.

They stared at each other for a long moment and Brock held his breath, slowly exhaling through his nose as he reached for his shake, “I feel like I jus might be gettin’ there..” 

Jack broke eye contact first when their waitress returned, their meals set down before them, and there was an air of relief around Brock as he unfolded his napkin, “Looks good.” 

There was a murmur of agreement while Jack busied himself with his food and they ate together in companionable silence, the background chatter of other guests filling in the space. 

Once the bill was paid and they found themselves outside again, Jack turned his way with hands shoved into pockets, “Thanks again for coming with me, I know it’s not your type of movie but I’m glad you still joined me.” 

“I had fun, I wouldn’t say no if ya needed company again.”

A smirk crossed Jack’s face for a second, pleased in a way that Brock found unfairly attractive as he was nodding to himself, “That’s great, I can never get anyone else to come with me. except maybe Tony, but he likes pointing out all the shortcomings of movie magic, so it kind of saps the fun out of it.” 

Brock laughed, “I bet it would.” 

Stopping before Jack’s family station wagon, Brock found himself wanting to do it all over again sooner rather than later. He daydreamed as he watched Jack unlock his door and turned back his way for a final farewell.

“Ya free tomorrow? Wanna go do somethin? I mean later after church and all that..maybe dinner?”

Expression thoughtful, albeit perplexed, Jack was curious. “What’re you thinking?” 

Helplessly shrugging, Brock shook his head, “I dunno, this is as far as I got.”

Mulling it over, fingers tapping along the frame of his car door, Jack’s expression brightened and he smiled again, small and almost secretive. Definitely something Brock was getting really attached to, “I got a place in mind, how about this? I’ll take charge of dinner - you just supply the company. I’ll pick you up at your place around seven.. or is that too late?” 

Partially surprised everything was turned around on him and partially happy Jack was now invested, he dumbly nodded to him, “Seven’s fine, but I can’t make you do everythin’.”

Jack only shook his head adamantly, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be around food anyway, makes sense for me to just make us dinner, I might be using the pickup to get you because Buck’s called the car for some date with Steve. Are you gonna be at church tomorrow?”

Wavering a little, Brock’s face pinched. “I dunno if that stuff’s fer me..I mean I was raised to go but I, you know, still gettin’ used to a lot of things ‘round here.”

The answer seemed to be enough for Jack, giving him a nod as he climbed into the car, “Well you’re always welcome if you feel like visiting again, we’ll save you a seat. Today was fun, thanks for the company, I’ll see you tomorrow at seven. Bye, Brock.”

Brock lingered only long enough to wave Jack goodbye before heading home. He tried his best not to dwell on thoughts about him; their conversation, the way he kept on smiling and _especially_ not about tomorrow evening. Back at home he buried himself into more house cleaning and unpacking, not giving his mind any chance to run away with fairly clandestine ideas. As if he could kid himself somehow.


	3. Chapter 3

A few minutes before seven, Brock draped his coat over his arm as he stepped out on the porch and locked up. He felt a little nervous all of a sudden, the air surprisingly warm , and he actually wasn’t sure about needing the extra warmth, a black knit pullover already on over a shirt and some slacks. 

Maybe he was overdressed, but Bucky insisted he would look great when he called to tease him about the date which definitely _was not_ one. He thought he looked a little stuffy but it was either that or one of his running outfits. He finally just gave up; it was comfortable once he had undone a couple of the top buttons but he felt out of place. He hoped Bucky wasn’t overselling it all, so Jack would end up thinking he was trying too hard. Not that he was hoping for that, it was just Jack and he wasn’t even sure why he was thinking like this-

A dusty red pickup pulled onto his dirt and gravel drive and he let all thoughts go, straightening up as he took the couple of steps off the porch and waited until Jack stopped before reaching the passenger side and catching his gaze through the rolled down window, “Nice ride.” 

Rolling his eyes, Jack leaned across the seat to get the door open, pushing it outward so Brock could pull from his side and climb in, “She’s reliable so I’d watch my mouth around her.”

Brock smirked, giving the door a pat, “I bet.” He turned to see a large picnic basket between them, “I see ya weren’t kiddin’ about settin’ up the meal - so where’re we goin’ tonight?”

“It’s a surprise.” Jack said with a partial turn of his head, amusement across his face as he pulled out and took the main road out of town. 

They drove in comfortable silence, the wind humming through the open windows and classic rock playing low on the aging radio. The moment Jack took the side road that started them into a weave of the countryside, it began to get a whole lot bumpier, and Brock couldn’t help laughing. He wasn’t sure why though, only leaning to get the volume turned up. His eyes roamed across the lush greenery he’d barely had any time to come out and see, hillsides picking up more out here than around the outskirts of town. The further out they went and the higher they climbed, the more it felt like Brock was in another place altogether. Technically it was true, mountainsides looming still a good distance away, but they were twisting up roads and creeping closer and closer. 

Turning to watch out his window, Brock barely held in a gasp as he made out their sleepy little town in the distance, tucked down below and studded with soft lights, surrounding _farmland_ basking in the golds and reds of the sunset. Brock was never much for art, especially landscapes, but right then he could admit to himself just how beautiful it was, the place he currently called home.

“Looks nice, huh?” Jack said over the music.

Brock turned his way, settling against the backrest, “Yeah, didn’t know how nice.”

Smiling in that way Jack did when he seemed to know something Brock didn’t, he didn’t say anything more, eyes focused on the wind of the road, and it gave Brock a little time to just admire him. Not that he could really help himself when Jack made it so easy on the eyes - dressed in a nice pair of black slacks and a light blue shirt with three of his own buttons undone, it was simple yet so very him.

Soon Jack pulled off the road completely, parking the truck next to the wall of trees as he gestured for Brock to roll his window up. 

“You get the basket, I’ll grab the blankets.”

Brock raised his brows but did as he was told, slamming the door shut behind him, watching Jack climb out and move to the back of the truck. There was a surprising heft to the basket. “So this is yer surprise? We’re goin’ on a picnic?” 

“Something like that.” Jack mumbled cryptically as he gestured for Brock to follow, a pair of blankets tucked at his arm while he made his way to a barely visible dirt path that led into the bank of trees. 

Following after him, Brock was curious to where they were going, venturing deeper past shrub that blocked the sight of the roadway and even the red of the truck, the foliage thinning out as grass welcomed them again with a small slope of a cliff edge. 

A few stray stones were kicked away and while Jack went ahead to lay the blankets out, Brock set the basket down and ventured closer to the edge, lost in the awe and beauty that was Summerhill with all of its surrounding countryside. From here he could also see the lake in all its calm and undisturbed glory, the water reflecting the landscape with quiet charm. 

It definitely beat out seeing concrete and traffic, taking a moment to deeply inhale the sweet fresh air instead of exhaust fumes. Brock definitely didn’t regret missing out on that, staring off at the various birds soaring through the air, darting and dipping away in the valley sprawled out below him.

“Definitely no regrets, then?”

Brock snapped back where he stood and also to his company, turning around and trying his best not to look as silly as he felt for getting so caught up with the scenery, Jack sitting down already with the basket parked at his hip.

“Never had regrets. Miss some things but all this, it’s real nice. Already not sure I’m willin’ to give this life up.” 

“So, you’re definitely here for good then?”

Brock wasn’t sure why Jack sounded maybe.. _hopeful_ , but he shrugged nonetheless, “Decent town, life’s slow ‘ere but not real slow, lets me breathe a bit, yanno?” He approached the blanket and sat down at the other side of the basket, not taking his eyes off Jack, “Good people too.”

Jack nodded in agreement and went to work on undoing the leather fastenings. Brock went back to the scenery.

“So what’s this spot anyway? Some make out point or somethin’?” 

He internally scoffed at that: never had time for it since he was either working or not interested exactly in _dating_. He was more a straight to the point kind of guy. He couldn’t help liking how he was here though, in the present, Jack next to him taking it easy, an honest old-fashioned gentleman. Jack definitely wasn’t trying to get anything on a first date. If they were on one, Brock corrected, because this clearly _wasn’t_ a date. 

Chuckling to himself, Jack shook his head, “Nah, just a place I found when I was a teenager. Once I had my licence, we all used to ride around and go exploring. Eventually we found this place. Wanda would start packing us lunches, Tony would grab his little radio and we’d all just make a day of it. It’s got the best view of Summerhill in my opinion.” 

“It does..” Brock breathed out in quiet awe just before his stomach made a small gurgling noise and he pressed a hand there in embarrassment. “I hope ya packed a good dinner, I could eat a damn horse.”

Jack looked almost offended, lifting the lid of the basket, “Of course I did, what do you take me for?” 

Peering inside, Brock could see a large array of assorted containers, Jack beginning the careful unpacking. He took initiative and began to open each one up, the first one holding triangular sandwich halves of thick cut roast beef, Brock feeling his mouth already watering. 

Jack set out paper plates and disposable cutlery while Brock opened another container filled with fried chicken, then another with still perfectly chilled macaroni salad. A small Tupperware had some gravy, the bowl beside it had fresh crisp salad, and the second to last was filled with those perfectly spiced potato wedges he loved, familiar scent wafting out. 

There was one last item still covered - from the shape, Brock knew exactly what it was and that meant it was for last, “Apple?”

Mirth across his eyes, Jack nodded before uncapping two bottles of cold beer and handing one over, “Yep, dig in.”

If Brock was punishing himself by watching his waistline before, he definitely wasn’t anymore, piling every item available onto his plate and groaning loudly at how good he knew the roast beef was going to be. Beside him Jack laughed, low and almost a rumble as helped himself to a sandwich triangle and some of the wedges.

“Shuddap.” Brock started once he swallowed down what was in his mouth, “Yer used to all this home cookin’ and make it all the damn time. Me? I wish I could come home to this, Sam’s lucky, ya know that? T’Challa is the perfect husband, works hard and still finds time to cook all those delicious meals.”

Jack watched him, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin, “You can still have that. You act like you’ll never find someone to share your life with.” 

“I’m nearly thirty, so I dunno,” Brock sulked a little, “Jus seems like I ain’t cut out fer that kinda stuff.”

“If you’re having problems then I’ve got no chance.” Jack teased, swiping the slice of cucumber sitting at the top of the salad that Brock had his eye set on.

“Hey, that was mine! You’d be fine, yer the whole package. That twenty somethin’ guy who’s a gentleman, family oriented, can cook..neat too. Buck says ya do a lot of the repairs on the farm and to top it all off you go to church. The whole nine yards. Ladies must be linin’ up fer you.”

Jack shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, fork poking at his food absently.

Brock picked it up easily enough, “Guys must be linin’ up then?”

“No guys. No ladies. Too busy making sure everyone’s on track. I like it that way, just sometimes..”

Nodding in understanding, Brock smirked, “Ya want someone special waitin’ for you on the other side of that door.”

For a moment Jack opened his mouth but then quickly closed it again, agreeing with him, “We’ll get there.” 

They settled in to stare at the beauty before them, Jack soon packing up the containers and placing the pie container onto the blanket. 

Brock took his share with his hand, no need for another plate, pie crust bits flaking all along his clothing but it was too delicious to be bothered over. Licking his fingers clean, Brock wasn’t sure he could move for a good few hours. Jack would have to leave him and he’d just make his bed right here. 

“I don’t think I can eat another damn bite.” He announced, falling back against the blanket with his arms tucked under his head. “Jack, you’ve got a talent. Killin’ me with food.” 

Chuckling, Jack cleaned up the rest, setting it aside before laying himself out next to him, “Would be a nice way to go at least.”

Brock nodded in agreement, his eyes closing before opening them and turning Jack’s way, eyes moving down to his hand scratching at the faint scar at the side of his face. Before he could think properly, he tilted his chin towards him, “What happened? I mean if it’s okay to be askin’.”

Jack’s hand immediately stopped, glancing away from him to stare up at the sky. “I was repairing some farm equipment for dad and decided to be an idiot about it. I used the old jack, thinking it shouldn’t be a big deal, figured I could get it done quickly. Of course it collapsed on itself, pinned me down - but managed not to crush me to death.”

“Christ.” Brock blinked, mouth half open. He quickly snapped back to look at Jack, “But I mean yer breathin’ at least.”

“You mean you are?” Jack joked and Brock made a face at him.

“Jus ‘cause ya make food I may jus murder for don’t mean you can be a smartass.”

“So you might huh?” Jack grinned, propping himself up a little, “I did lose my sight in one eye, can still drive but not too far out and I have to be careful. If I don’t, my dad’s gonna tear me a new one. The farthest I’ve really gone is Roseville.”

“I didn’t much notice. I mean, I knew somethin’ was up but nothin’ that bad. Ain’t a bad driver either.” 

Grinning to the compliment, Jack turned his way and Brock noticed a kind of _fondness_ on his face, instinctively gravitating towards him with a roll onto his side. He mostly ignored instinct though, it tended to get him in trouble from occasionally and he was really trying not to alienate his neighbors, at least for now. 

It took a few seconds to notice Jack hadn’t stopped staring at him; he stretched and threw Brock off again, turning back with a curious gaze, “Do you think you’re just running away from problems?”

“I wasn’t runnin’ away from nothin’.” Brock frowned, “I jus..needed a change is all. A big one.”

He ended it at that and hoped Jack wasn’t going to ask for more, not in the mood to elaborate, but he didn’t press it and Brock felt relief settle within him.

Jack pushed himself fully upright with a small sound of protest, picking up the basket as he rose to his feet and gestured for Brock to hang around. He disappeared back through the trees only to come back without said basket and a couple more bottles, this time sparking juice instead of beer, handing one over. Jack stared out at the dotting of lights cascading across the stretched body of land as the sun almost completely disappeared.

Eventually he sat back down beside Brock on the blanket, turning his way, “Did you leave anyone behind besides friends and family?”

Brock shook his head, taking a long sip of what he thought were blackberries, the fizz settling against his tongue, “I never had time. I had a kind of somethin’ with someone, not serious but that was before I even left. You?”

Jack shrugged, staring towards his bottle, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to elaborate and Brock wondered if, like before, he was pushing for something Jack wasn’t really open to speaking about. He eventually lifted his head and stared straight out again, speaking slowly, careful with each word.

“Few and far between, there’s been occasional someones, but nothing serious. Sometimes I’ll click with someone, but we end up not getting off the ground. I dated this girl once who wanted me to do something reckless like run away to the big city and got upset when I wouldn’t. I’ve never really met anyone that could honestly deal with the fact that I would want to make sure my family is taken care of..I don’t know, maybe it’s just me.”

Brock slowly sat up, hanging off every word Jack said, and reached out, squeezing his shoulder with a small amount of pressure, “It ain’t. They’re yer family.” He dropped his hand and stared across the overlook, “I’m tellin’ ya, noble and loyal as all hell. Hard to find people like that these days.”

Shaking his head, Jack said nothing and Brock stretched his legs out some more, thighs a little sore from his work out in the morning. He had started to put in a little bit extra, plus all the moving around of boxes and furniture in and outside his house. From the corner of his eye he could see the way the wind swept through the loose wisps of Jack’s hair, ends at the nape of his neck shifting, and Brock’s fingers twitched with a need to reach over and brush it just because.

A small frown crossed Jack’s features and Brock tilted his head a little to stare.

“I just want things to be good for all of them. The twins want to go to college but they worry about the cost, and so does Natasha. I’ve been helping Tony look into a culinary school for his talents: I tell you, he’s a genius with whatever he puts his mind to. Dad thinks we should get him into a school where he’s allowed to create freely.”

Brock watched the frown slowly fade away, “At least Bucky and Steve found each other. Steve’s a good man and he never looks at Buck like he’s handicapped because of his arm.” 

A small laugh fell out of Jack, hand hovering before his mouth at the memory, “I still remember the day we moved here, Steve was poking his head around, trying to be sneaky. He used to be scrawny and small for his age back then, got sick a lot too. But that first day, the day we moved into town, Bucky was like a moth to a flame, we had so many boxes to bring in but all Bucky wanted to do was spend time with Steve - so dad did the next best thing. He challenged Steve to help or go home, and you shoulda seen the look on this skinny little kid’s face, all huffing and puffing his chest out. For a second I thought he was about to pass out!”

Jack’s face lit up and Brock couldn’t stop himself from leaning in closer..

“Steve wasn’t kidding anyone with that bony body, but the girls adored him and you know what? That stubborn ass carried just as many boxes as all of us, with sheer determination. He had to stop a few times because of his asthma but he did good, stayed over until his ma came looking for him.”

Rubbing his hands together, Jack smiled at the easy memories that seemed to come back, “You know this part already since Buck’s probably told you when he talks about Steve, but he really wasn’t the same for a while when she passed away. Bucky though, he was always there for him. No one was surprised when they got together.” 

Brock snorted absently with a nod, leaning back on his elbows and stretching his neck back until he could comfortably stare up at the sky, the incoming evening drawing over them as hues of blue and black painted over the dusty rose and orange, welcoming points of stars beginning to come forth. “Ain’t that the truth. I mean, I ain’t been ‘ere long but I see ‘em, thick as thieves.”

“The stars are nice up ‘ere.” Brock admitted when Jack had fallen silent. At home he never really looked at them, but here, it almost seemed mandatory and he enjoyed them. “Back in the city ya don’t really get to see ‘em too much.” He found himself smiling up at them, he couldn’t help himself, “Real beautiful.”

“Yeah. Definitely beautiful.” Jack murmured in agreement, and while Brock wasn’t sure, he felt that sensation of eyes watching him almost immediately after. It didn’t seem like Jack was even talking about the stars anymore.

*****

It didn’t take very long for the whole town to start talking about Jack and Brock. It made Brock amused over how dry the gossip was: he supposed Jack’s new friendship was a hot topic, despite the fact they were only friends. Jack didn’t seem bothered by it either. Brock wasn’t sure what really phased the guy anymore.

Whatever was going on out there, Brock didn’t care much either way. They hung out at the garage from time to time with Sam, or at the diner with his siblings, shopped for groceries, kept each other company during errands. It was at the hardware store that Jack offered to mend the shutters for the windows at Brock’s place and sure, Brock had meant to do those, but had yet to get to it. At that point Jack had still never been inside and Brock was still on the fence about the possibility of him noticing how much of a mess it still was. He managed to tell Jack he would think about it, and Jack seemed alright with that. 

Aside from that minor hiccup, Brock found himself becoming more and more excited to spend time with Jack, be it alone and even with their friends and his family. He’d been around to the Fury farm a few more times for dinner and everything was so simple. He never knew how much he had forgotten to do just something as simple as breathing while back in New York.

Some time had passed and he was in the diner again, though not with Jack this time around. He saw him briefly when Wanda called and he ducked his head out from the back to give a greeting but was gone just as quickly, hands covered in flour and his apron a little soiled with a dusting of cocoa.

Brock ordered lunch and ate in peace until Natasha slid into the seat across from him. His hand paused halfway towards his mouth for another bite, sandwich slowly retreating back on his plate. “Hey.”

She gave him a once-over, which usually didn’t much bother him, but this time around it seemed a little unnerving. “Hi. How’s life?”

Brock always considered Natasha a friend: she was feisty and smart, cunning even. She was one of the first people that actually approached him without treating him like his arrival was suspicious. He had had enough time to understand when she was just being Natasha and when she was up to something. Currently, she was definitely trying to work out an issue and Brock’s guard went up.

“It’s great, puttin’ shit together in the house and gettin’ it cleared up. Work’s alright now that people get I’m not ‘ere to fuck up their car..”

She raised one perfect brow and cut to the chase, “And what about with my brother?”

The fact she called Jack _her brother_ without even saying his name was enough explanation and he sat back in his seat. “Jus bein’ pals, what of it?”

Her eyes didn’t break from his, cool and calm. Brock could play that game too, arms folding over his chest. 

“And nothing else?”

His eyes narrowed, “And what if there was? You wanna stop it or somethin’? Is this why ya got the third degree setup on me right now? This where ya say if I hurt ‘im yer gonna cut my dick off or some shit?”

Natasha smiled, actually _smiled_ and Brock knew full well he fucked up. Natasha didn’t smile like that unless she was pleased and having a good damn time at someone else’s expense. 

“For the record, I wouldn’t cut off your dick.” 

He was skeptical, “Good to know, Red.” 

She leaned in, arms resting along the smooth surface of the table, nails painted blood scarlet. Brock was unsure if that was for extra effect or if his head was playing games with him. Both seemed to be working at the moment.

“Jack hasn’t been happy like this in a while.” She paused, tilting her head to the sight of Wanda finally noticing where her sister had gone to with a long frown crossing her features. Natasha’s eyes returned back to him, “Don’t fuck it up.” 

“I- ” Brock started. He didn’t really have anything to say, not that Natasha stayed around to listen. She pushed herself out of the seat and made towards Wanda, who muttered something to her as soon as she was close enough.

Dropping his head towards his half eaten lunch, Brock didn’t much feel like finishing it up anymore. On the one hand he didn’t have anything to defend, but on the other, he would have been lying if he said he’d never had thoughts about wanting more with Jack.

*****

Things were a little different after that day for him. He still spent time with Jack but his mind strayed in relation to his friend. Sure Natasha was right, he had genuine feelings, but it didn’t mean much if he had no intention to do anything about it anytime soon. He really wanted to make sure he was settling in for the long haul out here, before there was a chance of shit blowing up in his face all over again. That was the point, right? There was no reason to go for a new relationship before a person fixed themselves, or some Cosmo bullshit like that.

On an unusually warm day for Fall, they decided to go on a short improvised hike. At the far end of the lake, where numerous forested rocky hills wound around southward, was a popular place to take in the scenic route at the cliff sides. 

It was Brock’s first time really doing something like this. While he was all for it when they started, he was now sweating from every part of his body, while Jack was in high spirits always a handful of feet ahead of him before stopping and encouraging him along. He ran around this very same lake, almost every day. He’d never seen Jack jog, let alone work out, and yet he was barely out of breath.

If Brock was a terrible person he would have knocked Jack on his ass and watched him roll down the steep hill they had been climbing. He didn’t though, instead griping about how this wasn’t his idea of fun all the way to the top where Jack had already been standing and waiting for him, grinning like an idiot and holding a water bottle out.

“Isn’t this great? I mean it’s not as nice as the view from that picnic, but it’s not bad.”

Brock was unsure about it looking great. All he really wanted to do was get into a shower and wash all the grime off his body, his mind trailing off to the thought of seeing if a running leap would land him in the lake or in the hospital. 

Granted, the lake was a deep perfect blue, its surface reflecting all the natural beauty around it while the water softly lapped along the shore. Maybe if he wasn’t struggling, it would have been pretty enjoyable. “Can we go now? I feel like m’about to have a heart attack or somethin’..”

Jack reached out and patted his shoulder, “Not a fan of mother nature, are you?”

Turning to give Jack one terse look, Brock finished off his water, crushing the bottle in his hand, “Mother nature can go take a flyin’ fuck.”

Chuckling, Jack moved his arm in a little further and draped it around his shoulders. Brock was suddenly self conscious, considering how much he had sweat through his t-shirt, but Jack didn’t seem bothered, a patch of sweat around the collar of his own shirt and at the center of his chest. How he sweat less than him, Brock couldn’t figure out. 

They stayed together like that a few good minutes and Brock allowed himself to relax, one side of him protesting that he shouldn’t get comfortable and the other letting his body lean in just a little. The sun had began its retreat and the breeze allowed a tinge of coolness to brush by them. 

It was nice like this, maybe a little dumb, like they were a pair of kids having an adventure. Brock couldn’t stop himself from enjoying it just a little bit longer before Jack turned his way and had a look in his eye that said he had some sort of idea.

“What do you think about going for a swim?”

Brows went up, “What, right now?”

“Yeah.” Jack shrugged, “I mean, the lake’s right there, all we would have to do is get back down. If you’re interested. Or we could just go back home to the house and see what everyone else is doing. Your choice.”

Brock contemplated the idea of heading back to sit with Jack’s family versus having time to spend with him alone. He still wasn’t sure how exactly they were going to do this when they didn’t bring any extra clothes. It had always been that expression of hopefulness on Jack’s face that led him to moments like this: Brock always ended up wanting to go along with it just for him. Granted, once in a while Jack joined him on his own wild ideas; he figures they’re pretty even on some level.

That sort of thinking was all fine and dandy until they reached the shoreline. The area was secluded enough, high with reeds at the side where the path led out, and it was pretty late for a walk this way considering the distance. He still stood there a little dumbstruck, while Jack was pulling his shirt off over his head and kicking off his shoes.

“Wait, what the hell are ya doin’?”

Jack glanced over his shoulder, leveling him with a boyish grin: a rare look that Brock really found too cute, ignoring the idea that maybe, just maybe, this was a very bad idea.

When Jack got to his belt buckle, Brock finally realized what his friend really meant when he said they should go swimming. Part of him panicked as the rest of him was ready to take his shirt off and join the party.

“Afraid of a little skinny dipping?” Jack teased, turning to look back toward the water, and Brock scowled in return.

“It ain’t that. What if someone sees us?” Sure, it was a lame excuse _not_ to get naked, but it was a logical one. It definitely wasn’t because he was two seconds away from seeing Jack completely naked and the guy was apparently okay with that.

Jack shrugged. He honestly didn’t seem to care and Brock believed that. He was already pulling off his t-shirt while at the same time taking too many glances towards Jack’s bare back, especially when he proceeded to shuck off his jeans and peel off his socks. The guy didn’t even have the courtesy to wear a loose pair of boxers, instead he was wearing pretty tight boxer briefs that didn’t leave anything to the imagination. It only got worse when he didn’t stop there, slipping those off too and tossing them at the top of his discarded clothes.

Brock was in hell.

The sky gave off a gold dusky color and, Brock reasoned to himself (while trying his hardest not to focus back on Jack’s ass), if he got in the water fast enough it would be nightfall by the time they got out. Still, it didn’t save him from his fears of being caught completely naked in the lake alongside Jack. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for any of the implications that it would lead to if Natasha or anyone else found out. Also, what would this mean in Jack’s mind?

Brock didn’t mean to look again when Jack turned his way, but the fact that he did didn’t bode well for how creepy it must have looked - or how fucking hung Jack actually was. Brock had had his thoughts on the matter on cold nights, and maybe a few showers, but the mystery in it was not knowing. Now that it was confirmed, he felt his face warm and he dropped his eyes to the ground, fingers tightening around his t-shirt as he approached Jack’s clothes and took off his shoes.

“I’ll be in the water, slowpoke.” 

He really couldn’t lift his head so he did the one thing he knew well, giving the finger. Undoing the button of his jeans, he only looked for where Jack was when he heard the splash of water and a small noise of surprise. He knew it would be a little cool but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, Jack giving him a thumbs up as he palmed his wet hair back and out of his face, sun kissed shoulders barely peeking out.

Brock reached for his zipper and it was then that he realized Jack was staring at him. He wasn’t shy, not really, and hadn’t been for a while but there was something about Jack doing it that made him a little more conscious of himself, a little more aware. 

It was also a little thrilling. Without a word, there was _something_ deep between them and it felt safe and good, a difference Brock needed in his life. He ignored the tiny voice telling him that it could still go south, instead he pulled his jeans down with his underwear and immediately Jack broke out in a grin, averting his eyes.

“I thought you were worried about someone seeing you!”

“If you can get in there buck naked, so the fuck can I!” 

He approached the water with a little bit of apprehension but quickly waded in, ignoring the sharp change in temperature and the momentary thoughts of everything crawling back up inside of him. Soon he got the guts to dunk himself in as Jack watched. 

“I didn’t know you would actually join me.”

Raking his hair back, Brock smirked, “Figured I’d give it a go.” 

It was hard to keep his eyes off Jack, all lean muscles and skin glistening. Brock struggled to look away especially with Jack mostly staying still like he was letting him. It didn’t help knowing he was completely naked under the water, something swimming past Brock’s leg and startling him out of his head. 

Jack dove off and away from him, disappearing under the water while Brock attempted to just stay afloat. He didn’t want to bring up the fact that he didn’t know how to swim. As long as he could feel the sand under his feet when he let himself sink down the few inches, he figured he’d be okay. He let his arms float at either side of him and his head drop back, upper body drifting lazily as his feet absently kicked along. Somewhere in the distance, Jack had resurfaced and was doing laps, and he had to admit, this was pretty nice.

They kept on like that, Brock sticking far enough away from the shore that it looked like he knew what the hell he was doing, yet close enough to make it back in the quickly approaching darkness without drowning himself somehow. Along with the sounds of bullfrogs and the occasional chorus of crickets, Jack splashed through the more center area of the lake. The longer they stayed out like this, the easier it was for Brock to forget about things that weighed on his mind, even if one of those were in the same body of water as him. 

He didn’t realize he lost the unconscious tracking of Jack’s swimming until hands grabbed at his ankles and pulled him under. Brock’s surprised shout bounced off boulders and skimmed across the way before he was completely submerged.

He could feel himself being dragged deeper in and it took a little bit of a struggle before he managed to get turned around in the chaos, both of them slippery as he fought to get a good hold on Jack anywhere he could after finally kicking his legs free. He couldn’t feel the ground as much anymore but he was so distracted by Jack coming in to get at him again that he had no time to panic.

Jack managed to press his head against Brock’s collarbone as they grappled each other, both of them resurfacing out of the water, wet hair plastered over Jack’s eyes with his arms tight around Brock’s ribs in a bid to knock him back under again. Their feet dragged through the mud, filtering between toes and kicking up a clouds of it around them. 

Brock’s laughter mixed in with Jack’s when arms constricted around his middle and Jack thrust himself forward with enough force that Brock stumbled backwards a few steps. He managed to slip out of Jack’s hold and push back with the same amount of assertion he was given, Jack caught off guard from the break that he ended up falling backwards into the water himself. Brock was seconds from gloating when Jack reached out with one desperate hand and wrapped fingers around his wrist, dragging them both beneath the jostled surface.

They struggled and fought for who the first would be to break the surface, a hand shoving into Jack’s face because no one said Brock didn’t fight dirty if he had to even though he was only making it worse by laughing and gulping in too much water. Jack was about the same, the deep echo of his own laughter bouncing around Brock before Jack kicked upward and made it to the surface, pulling Brock up with him. The calm above them was broken again with more choked laughs and coughing, Jack’s hands holding on tight to Brock’s biceps.

“Hey you okay? You swallowed a lot of water.”

Brock blinked out the water from his eyes, Jack close enough that he could feel the heat from his body and he let himself nod as he whipped his hair from his eyes, “Yeah, m’fine. You jus surprised me.” 

When his eyes finally opened without the worry of them stinging, Jack was closer than Brock had originally thought, eyes a pretty green even under the cover of the night and his chest easing from the heavy breathing. Brock softened to the worry in his expression, their knees bumping under the water and his toes just barely touching the bottom.

“I can’t swim.” Brock muttered, his own breathing trying to calm itself down, Jack’s hands warm around his arms still.

“Figured.” Jack murmured softly, continuing to stare at him and it made Brock’s thoughts and worries melt into nothing.

Jack slipped his hand away from one bicep and Brock’s skin began to prickle as tentative fingers skimmed across his skin and curved against the side of his neck. Time suddenly seemed to slow like everything else about the situation and Brock only licked his lips in anticipation even if that tiny voice at the back of his mind said he probably shouldn’t let that happen.

Leaning forward, Brock was blindsided when instead of pressing lips to his, Jack slipped his free arm around his waist and pulled him in for a hug. It was more than just startling and a gasp fell out of him from the confusion of it, arms automatically moved in to reciprocate before he could process and wrapped them around Jack’s chest as tight as he possibly could.

“Is this..okay?” Jack whispered by his ear, gentle and careful like he’d always been around him and it blew Brock away.

It was stupid to him, how choked up he felt all of a sudden over this whole moment where he assumed Jack was about to lean in for a kiss and instead they were pressing bodies against each other. It wasn’t even sexual. He actually felt overwhelmed by the gesture, nodding quickly to Jack’s query when he couldn’t find his words but didn’t want him to pull away from the lack of a response. Brock found he only clung tighter to Jack and tucked his chin at a water speckled shoulder, feeling the beat of Jack’s heart come into sync with his. It was like the rug was pulled out from under him. Since changing his life so drastically, Jack had always been the only one to read him correctly without even Brock knowing what he wanted.

Now he didn’t want to ever let Jack go.

*****

They never spoke about that night at the lake, but Brock always felt that Jack was more protective of him after that. Jack changed plans if he even hinted a little at being off; there were at least a couple times when even a simple night at Sam’s for poker ended up with Jack canceling. Jack could tell how he was feeling after only one look over and ended up calling in for a raincheck .

When that happened, they would end up making popcorn, grabbing some beers and curling up on the couch with a blanket watching TV on the portable. Actually, they did that more than with just a couple of the poker nights - it was a routine whenever possible.

Sometimes Bucky, Wanda or Nat would come and join them, stealing a bit of the blanket, and if Brock was still over after the diner was closed for the night, at some point everyone else would slowly trickle in. Even Steve would drop in if he was off shift, or Clint if he wasn’t lazing around at his own place, and it would be one big sleepover. 

Prior to bed, Nick would inform them all to keep their traps shut, usually pointedly staring at Tony when he said it. They would both hold each other’s gazes before Nick ruffled his son’s hair and trudged himself up the stairs for a well earned rest.

Brock never really remembered doing stuff like this after he had moved out of his family’s house right after graduation. He wanted to be on his own, prove what he felt like he had to prove, and be someone, but he missed how everyone would gather together and watch TV, or play games. Even just talking was a good memory. It seemed like this was all the Furys did when they had time off: sometimes Pietro would disappear, as did Tony and at times Natasha after telling them how boring he and Jack were but they would come back and join in again. There was always a place for everyone, and that was the thing Brock liked. Even for him, Clint, Steve, and on the rare occasion when he wasn’t busy doing the marriage thing, Sam.

Of course there were also times it was just him and Jack watching, (though Brock was a little partial to the Golden Girls and a tiny bit glad Jack was into it too). If he was really tired, he would end up falling asleep against Jack’s shoulder only to be wake up curled against the warmth and an arm draping his shoulders. Brock may have occasionally pretended he was sleeping so he could bask in just being against Jack, feeling him breathing or soak in the vibrations of the small quiet rumble of laughter that Jack couldn’t hold in despite obviously trying hard not to wake him. 

Brock’s favorite part ended up always being when he could feel the beat of Jack’s heart like back at the lake together, and it only cemented how far gone he was after that.

Of course even when he daydreamed, Brock knew it wouldn’t last.

*****

It was a Saturday night that found Brock and Jack loitering at a music store back in Roseville. AC/DC blared through speakers and neon pink signs pointed their way around CDs, cassettes, records and merchandise against dark red carpeting inlaid with zig-zag strikes of black.

Brock flipped through some vinyl he wanted to finally unbox that record player, now that he had a place for it after bringing it back from Bruce’s little shop. From the corner of his eye he could see Jack reading off tape covers, a few in his hand as he made his way around, occasionally chatting with one of the salesgirls who seemed keen on making sure he found everything he was looking for.

Perusing the next row of vinyls, Brock finally found something of interest, staring at the artwork at the front and contemplating grabbing it for home.

“Didn’t take you for a Sonic Youth fan.” Jack piped up over Brock’s shoulder, startling him. “Also didn’t know you had a record player. This makes things more interesting.”

He watched Jack sidle up next to him, resting his little shopping basket by his feet, fingers nimbly flipping from cover to cover through the thick stack of music. “I jus grabbed a nice one from Banner, he had it at his shop winda when I moved out ‘ere. Didn’t know ya even knew who they were.”

Jack smirked, not looking his way. “I live in a small town, not under a rock.” 

Snorting at him, Brock placed the LP next to his meager pile and shrugged. “Coulda fooled me.” 

“Shut up,” Jack muttered back, pausing to pull a cover out. “Now the Smiths, you need this for your collection.” 

“Next thing yer gonna tell me to buy is all of New Order’s shit.”

Jack only perked up. “Yeah, and?”

Brock groaned. “Fuckin’ impossible.”

Jack went back to rifling for more music and Brock continued glancing at him, watching as a small lock of hair fell out of place against Jack’s forehead. Brock’s eyes trailed down to his cheek and along the stubble collecting against his jaw, eyes lingering at the column of his throat that just barely peeked out from behind the collar of a blue checked shirt. He let his mind wander a few seconds and wondered just how it would be to rub his face raw against Jack’s and pull at that shirt until more skin was exposed. 

“What about Queen..or,” Jack pulled out another vinyl, “Pink Floyd? Can’t get any better than that.”

Brows raised in minor surprise, Brock poked at the spines, “Against the Clash? The Descendents? Better than Black Flag? You okay there, Jack?” 

Amusement filled Jack’s features, shaking his head as he added a few more LPs to his basket. “Not too interested in punk. I mean the Clash, maybe, but..I do like the Pogues if we’re going that route.” 

Brock beamed, gathering up his pile. “Now that I can get behind.” 

Jack chuckled as they walked alongside each other, and Brock ignored the way his hands suddenly felt a little sweaty and clammy, Jack grabbing a couple more cassette tapes from the front display before they reached the register. He turned Brock’s way again, “Please tell me you love _Fairytale of New York_ or I’m not sure we can be friends anymore.”

Feigning surprise, Brock scoffed and tried to hide his grin. “Would ya really end it with me over _that_?”

The girl at the register tried to hide her smile, scanning Jack’s picks. “ _I’d_ stop being friends with you if you didn’t.”

Jack and Brock paused their face-off to turn her way and she only met their eyes with a shrug, “Just my two cents.” 

“I like her.” Jack declared. “She’s going to be my new friend if you don’t like it.”

Brock rolled his eyes, retrieving his wallet out from his back pocket to grab his credit card, pushing his records towards the girl. “Don’t be gettin’ any ideas and you can charge this all together. It’s on me.”

“No way Brock, I couldn’t- ” Jack started, but Brock only shook his head.

“You paid fer a few of ‘em lunches and dinners we went to, more than I did and that picnic too. Don’t think I forgot about that. Lemme pay for these, Jesus.” 

Jack put his hands up in surrender and Brock nudged him away from the cash register adamantly holding out his card for the girl, clearly entertained by it all, to take. She rested the bags up on the counter, “Enjoy the rest of your day fellas!”

“We sure will, thanks darlin’.” He gave her a wink and took the bags, Jack groaning beside him as they strolled outside.

“You’re ridiculous.”

Brock took a second to look for the truck, not able to help himself from smiling so much. “I’m havin’ fun, or were you not noticin’ how she was givin’ you the eye all that time we were in there?”

Faltering a moment, Jack’s brows came together. “No, I meant you’re ridiculous with paying everything, because it’s not a contest - and what eye?”

Tossing his head back to laugh, a couple of passersby gave Brock looks before hurrying away and it only made him laugh harder, collapsing against the side of Jack’s truck. “Damn Jackie, you’re blind.”

A heavy hand rested on Brock’s shoulder and he let his friend straighten him back up again, keys coming out to get the door.

“Hey, I’m half blind and..I guess? I don’t know, I never really notice those things unless someone comes right out and tells me. And if I’m within someone, then I tend to just focus on them.” 

Brock felt himself sobering up at those words, the door propped open as Jack walked around to get into the driver’s side, not seeming to notice eyes studying his every move. It was another thing he was noticing; more and more little signs that Jack might actually be interested in him. It didn’t help that Brock felt the attraction right back - but what to do with it was a whole other situation in itself. He might have been slow in the uptake department but he wasn’t entirely stupid, and he would have gotten it even without the help of others, _especially_ from Bucky, who seemed to have adopted himself as Brock’s personal love coach. 

He climbed into the truck, his leg bumping up against the shopping bags. Swallowing thickly over the sudden nervous energy he was harboring, he forced himself to turn Jack’s way as his friend focused on pulling out of the parking spot.

“We should have a listen to all the stuff we got sometime soon, yeah?” Brock kept his voice easy, steady but his hands were suddenly shaking. He shoved them deep into his pockets.

Eyes focused on the road, Jack nodded to him, “Yeah definitely. Maybe next week? We all have to prepare for a two day family reunion for the Odinsons -apparently all their relatives are big on barbecuing. That’s on top of keeping the diner open too, so I’m pretty tied up until that’s over with. Hopefully those vague hurricane warnings coming our way are just that.”

Brock nodded, turning to stare out at the road ahead of them, trees bordering the sides until they began reaching city limits, “I hope so, ain’t a fan of hurricanes but about the food.. need help? I mean after work, I could drop by and give a hand on..whatever ya need.” 

“Nah, got some extra hands already. Clint’s coming in after his shift to make sure we got enough inventory for both nights, and to bus tables. May’s sending Peter to help with service. He’s done it a few times so he knows his way around and he’s always ready to make some extra money. Peggy’s gonna drop by to help in the kitchen, same with T’Challa, and she’ll keep the place in order while dad’s outside roasting the hogs and everything. She has to. Tony gets up to all kinds of trouble when no one’s watching and with Peter around, it’s worse - I’ve always counted on Peggy to make sure she knocks some sense into them both.”

“Sounds like ya got your hands full.” 

Jack turned the radio on, keeping it low, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. “I do, but it’s good. I like those moments where it’s so busy I can’t get stuck in my head thinking about other things. Thank you though, for the offer.” 

Brock nodded in acknowledgment, turning to watch the farmland spread out for miles. He tried his best not to guess what was getting Jack hung up, and felt his hands return to that clammy sensation again. 

By the time they pulled up to his house, he knew he was overthinking way too much, the engine softly humming as Jack turned to look over at him. Brock brought himself out of his head, mirroring the action. He searched Jack’s face for a long moment, unsure of what he was trying to find, maybe a sign to know if he was ready to say something further; even invite Jack inside for a movie or something. The place was a total mess but he had been sorting things out here and there. It was better than when he first stepped foot inside almost four months ago: now it was more or less _habitable_. 

Jack’s brows lifted in question and Brock swallowed, his hand sneaking out of his pocket to get at his seatbelt. He just stared instead and a frown formed across Jack’s lips.

“Brock? You okay?”

“I’m married- ”

“What?” Jack’s shoulders drew back, his eyes immediately shifting to the hand missing an obvious ring.

Squeezing his eyes shut a second, Brock opened them again with a shake of his head. “No I mean, was married. Remember when I said I wasn’t runnin’ away from anythin'? That was a lie. I um, it was annulled. Mutual decision, stupid too but we uh, realized we could be roommates ya know? Why not? We already got married like idiots, so whatever why not be roommates?” 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Brock couldn’t help but continue when Jack didn’t respond. “It was spur of the moment shit. Told our families we did it and they didn’t care, I shoulda really thought all that crap out. His uncle partially gifted us a brownstone too, and we took it even if no one knew we weren’t nothin’ no more. It was a swell set up, we played house when we had to for family visits but when it was just me and him, we stayed in separate rooms. Got used to each other. We did everythin’ like we were common-law, I didn’t love him or nothin’.. jus as a friend. It was more of a convenience.”

Sucking in a breath, Brock drew his eyes towards the house, “Anyway yeah, I worked a lot and so did Michael, that was his name, and we relied on each other. I never realised that until he was gone. It’s why I moved out here mostly, he died and..I didn’t know how to take care of my damn self. So fuckin’ embarrassin’ to be a grown man and you can’t operate because you were leanin’ on someone else. I told my family the truth right after it happened and they ended up treatin’ me like I was an invalid. I grieved, still am I think, but not in the way like everyone’s thinkin’. They think I’m two steps from the edge because I’m not tearin’ up about it and I realized if I didn’t leave, I jus might lose my head. I had to make a fresh start and take care of myself.”

It had been a while that Brock admitted to someone who Mike really was, his fingers reaching for the ring like a security blanket, even though he never wore it any more. Now it was sitting atop the bedroom dresser in his room underneath a crumpled funeral program and a dusty old ball cap.

Jack swallowed, clearly struggling to find what to say at first. “I’m sorry for your loss, Brock. I didn’t know why you came out here, Sam never told anyone. Must be tough to get away from your friends and family after something like that though.”

He didn’t know when Jack had started rubbing his shoulder but Brock found himself leaning into it, mostly numb about the actual memory of his friend. He shrugged slightly when the words finally sunk in. “I asked Sam not to. He doesn’t know every detail, but enough to get an idea it’s more than jus a need for change. Guess I should let ‘im in on the rest, some time. He’s a good guy like that and yeah, it’s been tough.. but that was the point. I wanted to go at my own pace.”

“I’m happy you told me but..why?”

Silence filled the space between them and Brock picked up the closer of the two shopping bags, “I guess I had my reasons.” He pursed his lips together because that was a terrible lie. “I guess I jus wanted you to know.”

He didn’t wait for a response and it seemed Jack wasn’t going to give him one, climbing out of the truck with a small huffed nod that he made sure was caught before he quickly walked toward the door and let himself in. Dropping the shopping bag by his running shoes, he walked over and sagged against the back of the couch, taking a few deep breaths as he let things sort along. 

Brock knew he liked Jack, that was a given. He was attracted to everything about him, but if he didn’t know how to deal with his own damn feelings, was it right to mix them in with someone else’s? It scared him how he was already having those thoughts and he had no idea if Jack was going to see him now as his family had.


	4. Chapter 4

The garage was closed for the day in anticipation for the hurricane passing, as was every other building; all shuttered down or boarded up just in case. He had been staring out the window with a cup of coffee as the rain pelted down from the overcast sky and had been for the past few hours. There were broadcasts of a category two, possibly escalating to three but because they were so inland Sam assured him it wasn’t going to be as volatile as he had read in the newspapers. Brock was still nervous though, the winds gaining momentum as hours passed, and he wondered if he should board them up like everyone else had. 

Mike was the one who prepared, readied them for emergencies like the snow storms back in New York. He always had a small first aid kit in the car tucked away in the glove compartment or kept extra of something if they used it a lot. He would have been the one hammering away in the rain to protect the windows just in case, always ready for the worst as a precaution while Brock playfully mocked him. 

He really missed him, the memory bringing a sad smile to his face. No matter how much of a farce their marriage was, he was still one of his best friends and he couldn’t help how empty it felt with him not around.

About to turn away, Brock’s eye caught the Furys red pickup down the bend and his heart leaped in recognition. Sure enough, as the truck brought itself down the muddy road, it promptly turned onto his property and Brock backed himself away from the window, mug going into the sink.

“Shit.”

The thrum of excitement refused to quell even when he was actively trying to tell himself it could just be Bucky in there, the truck pulling in next to the porch steps with its back covered by a large tarp. Wide shoulders stepped out of the driver’s seat covered in a warm and earthy brown tumbled suede coat and Brock definitely knew that was not Bucky. He hadn’t seen Jack since Brock’s reveal of why he actually moved out here and since there had been no phone call, he completely unsure of how to approach this visit.

Turning towards the decorative mirror layered in a thick veil of dust, he squinted at himself as he checked his hair just before footsteps stepped across the groaning floorboards at the other end and a knock came to the door. Drawing in a mouthful of air and then exhaling, Brock opened the door and stood in the frame of it. “Jack, hey.” 

“Hey Brock. I’m sorry for dropping in like this without calling but we had some extra bits of wood after nailing up the barn and stuff, figured I would come by and see if you needed help on your windows. If not I can be on my way.” Jack took a step back toward the truck and gave him a half smile.

“No,” Brock blurt out before really thinking of what to say entirely, “Um, the place is a mess. I’ve been tryin’ to get it cleaned up but it’s a lotta work..”

Jack looked in past over his shoulder and Brock could see him assessing. “Is that why you never want me to come in? Because of the mess? You know I don’t care about that, besides I’ve seen it before you moved in. It was much worse, trust me.” 

Brock gave him a half shrug. “Jus how I felt.”

Giving him a hard look, Jack finally shook his head and thumbed back at his truck, “And now you know it was silly to worry about. I’m going to work on your windows before the winds get any worse out here.”

“Lemme get my jacket, I’ll help ya.”

Jack opened his mouth to say something but then seemed to change his mind, nodding in agreement before he went down the steps and back out into the drizzling rain.

The workload wasn’t as daunting with the both of them together but it took a good chunk of the daylight with it and they were both soaked through their clothes when Brock was heading back in. Jack stayed outside to check for possible flooding to the basement and Brock left him to it. Inside he started up the coffee, fetching some towels to place by the door so Jack would see them before Brock made his way upstairs to hastily change. Jack was inside when he got downstairs again, rifling through a backpack he had brought in from the truck, a towel draped around his shoulders.

“You brought clothes?”

Jack shrugged, not looking up from the bag, “I figured you wouldn’t want me soaking into your carpet if I hung around.”

Humming in agreement, Brock went back to the cabinets, rooting around for cups. There was a click of the bathroom door closing while coffee brewed away and when Jack was out he entered the kitchen with a container placed down by the cups and Brock turned his head towards it.

“What’ja make this time?” 

“Blueberry and lemon loaf.” An expression of absolute smugness across Jack’s face. 

Brock rolled his eyes, fingers curled around the corner edge to pull the lid away, and he leaned in to take a deep inhale just before grabbing at a slice. His mind momentarily projected Nonna scolding him to get a plate but he was hungry and lazy, ready to take the whole container and crash on the couch with it. 

“Yer gonna kill me, ya know that?” Mouth full of cake and refusing to groan in ecstasy; he had some decency. Sometimes. “Keep makin’ me treats and yer gonna haveta grease the door for me so I can roll my ass outta here.”

“Yeah.” Jack agreed, taking a corner of cake for himself. “And you already got enough of an ass going on.” 

Brock kicked at his ankle and stole another slice just out of spite, turning to get the coffee and pointing towards the fridge. “I made some of that meatloaf you gave me the recipe fer last night but now I regret it. I ain’t put no egg in it either.”

“ _Pieczeń rzymska_?”

Brock almost dropped the cups because _really_ , it shouldn’t have sounded as hot as it did and he hated that he kept falling for the way foreign words just rolled off Jack’s tongue. Jack’s back was turned to him, unaware of his predicament and rifling in the refrigerator for the leftovers; it was just enough time for Brock’s mind to slip into warm sinful thoughts about Jack whispering Polish secrets in his ear while they were wrapped up in blankets and he closed his eyes for a moment to let it linger. 

Because Brock was a very mature adult, he kicked Jack in the ass just for good measure over the insult about his butt before making a hasty exit out of the room with their coffees. Luckily he only got a death glare and managed not to spill their drinks over himself.

They sat on the couch eating meatloaf sandwiches, the container of cake slices pressed between them and reruns of Night Court running on the television. If Brock wasn’t worried a little about being killed by bad weather, the house making odd noises as if it might collapse on his head, he would have been having a real nice time. 

The lights kept flickering in and out right along with the TV when they were up clearing the dishes and Jack moved all the flashlights, candles and the two gas lanterns he had brought with him onto the kitchen table. Brock managed to find an old battery run radio that still worked, placing that alongside their other backup supplies.

“We’ll have to move all this into the basement just to be safe.”

Immediately apprehension filled Brock, palms beginning to sweat at the thought of going down there. His gaze shifted to a loud smacking sound that he knew was one of the trees against the house despite his mind coming up with numerous other possibilities and while the basement was inevitable, he really loathed the idea.

Jack eyed him carefully. “You scared of going downstairs?”

“Not exactly, jus not a fan of ‘em..” He shrugged, unable to finish off what he meant.

Jack seemed to understand though and he pointed out a newly purchased shelving unit still in its box, leaning against the corner by some storage containers. “Let’s build a shelf then.”

“Why?”

“You bought it to use, right? Let’s get it set up so you can actually do that.”

Jack was trying to distract him, which he appreciated. He had ideas of having to hide out in the basement all evening alone, and had been putting it off, but now he had a feeling Jack knew how to deal with it, and if building a shelf was how they were going to do it, Brock was all up for it.

Jack rambled about this and that; how life was growing up with Nick when he was still young and there were no siblings yet. It was the most he’d heard him talk in a single visit, Jack pushing some boxes his way and Brock unpacking them, laying out picture frames and little things. The soft drone of the television, Jack’s voice and the job of sifting through boxes helped immensely and besides it being distracting it was also oddly comforting. instead of having that lingering sensation of a lonely void hanging over him like when he did this alone, this brought life to the space he never exactly knew how to enliven by himself.

He found he didn’t feel as unnerved, by the time Jack was putting in the last couple of screws and hammering the backing in. It wasn’t anything special or ornate but he liked it, watching his friend tilt it off its side and set it against the wall before turning back his way.

“Well? Is that okay?”

Brock stared at it and he couldn’t help the smirk across his face, nodding before they both went ahead decorating the shelves, Brock finally finding his own voice and introducing him to some of his family in the frames, especially his Nonna who sat at the forefront.

“She seems real nice.” Jack admitted lightly, putting a few high school trophies (that Brock couldn’t bear ever letting go) on the highest shelf .

Brock chuckled, “She sure is, maybe one day I’ll be able to introduce ya both, she’d take one look and ask if you ate.”

Brows went up. “Yeah?”

Nodding to him, Brock picked up the last couple knick-knacks and set them out, “It’s her thing, she’s always gonna feed everyone. Look at me, she worried I wasn’t eatin’ enough and I came back needing to lose what I gained.”

Jack had the audacity to roll his eyes, collecting the tools he had on the makeshift table and getting them put away. “How many times I gotta tell you that you don’t look different and you’re obsessed over nothing.” 

“Says you.” Brock shot back.

They wound up bumping shoulders as they dropped back on the couch and it was just in time for an episode of Murder, She Wrote. Luckily it was one Brock hadn’t seen before and he was immediately invested. Jack braced his arm against the back of the couch and even though it wasn’t on Brock’s shoulders, Brock felt like it was specifically there for him to take advantage of so he leaned his head back, comfortable. Jack’s fingers curved in a few minutes into the show, just barely, enough so they were playing with the stitching of Brock’s t-shirt, and Brock found he really liked little things like that. It told him Jack was present but not focused on him, casual and soothing in its own pleasant way without the need to engage in anything further.

It was almost near the end of the episode, Jessica about to reveal who the murderer was, when the power abruptly cut out and they both sat in the darkness in silence for a few odd seconds. The wind continued bumping and banging against the boards, the groans the house made now amplified and vociferous.

Jack was on his feet soon enough, walking towards the kitchen while Brock attempted to track him in the darkness, listening to the sound of footsteps. There were a few strikes of a matchbox and then they had light again, candles lit in little holders, and Jack passed over one of the smaller flashlights to him, returning to the table to get the gas lanterns lit.

Brock pulled himself off the couch when he remembered the food needed to be moved, a pair of coolers on standby. Jack returned, thin-lipped and brows knit together when Brock was back in the sitting room. It was an expression Brock was fondly getting to know as Jack’s face of authority. 

“You wanna move downstairs or- ”

Brock’s head snapped away from him, a ghostly whine of the wind running past one of the less insulated windows reminding him he really did have to get that fixed if it didn’t get busted in tonight. “I wanna stay a little while longer up ‘ere if that’s no trouble.”

Expression softening against the cast of candlelight, Jack nodded and Brock let his gaze linger a few seconds on that face before he returned to the flashlight in his hand.

“Sure, Brock.” 

Jack’s voice was light, as if cajoling him to ease up and Brock felt his heart react. It was dumb and childish, he hated the way one person made him behave like that so easily. He couldn’t deny his feelings but he could certainly be frustrated by them, turning his head Jack’s way again when he sat back down on the couch and one of the lanterns was placed down on the poor impersonation of a coffee table.

Clearing his throat, Brock turned his flashlight off and set it beside him, “When I was a kid, I always hated the dark. It was dumb but I have alotta cousins and whenever any of them would stay over we would try to scare each other and play hide and go seek. It usually ended up scarin’ the crap out of my younger cousins mostly. Still though, when they would all be sleepin’ I would jus lie there awake ‘til the early light started comin’ in. When they weren’t spendin’ the night, I always had night lights.”

Jack smirked but didn’t seem to do it out of mockery, “What changed?”

Turning his head to look up at the ceiling with a huff, Brock shrugged, “Nothin’. By high school I jus told my dumb ass to quit bein’ a pussy and sleep in the dark. Sometimes I was half awake when I hit classes but it wasn’t often. I mostly got myself outta it.”

“It’s still, I’m guessing.”

“Yup.” Brock confirmed, rubbing his hands together. “So fuckin’ stupid.” 

“I don’t think so, everyone’s got their issues with one thing or another. You can’t just… instruct yourself not to have it.”

Humming reluctantly in agreement, he didn’t say anything more and they sat in comfortable silence together. Brock may have leaned against Jack’s arm a little more after that though, hands resting against his lap as he let his eyes close.

“..Do you regret ever moving out here? At any time I mean, even for a second?”

“Nah.” Brock shot back easily enough, “It’s been an adjustment sure, but ain’t nothin’ that’s told me I’ve made a mistake. I’ve been trying to settle in and roll with the punches now. ‘Sides, I’m beginnin’ to like most of my neighbors. The friendships I’ve made too, never really had many of those once Mike and I moved in together. I was so damn busy all the time, didn’t know what I was missin’.” 

He turned his head towards Jack who was already focused on him, “What about you? Ever wanna leave and hit the big cities?”

A small smile tugged at his friend’s lips and he shook his head, “No. Not really. Sometimes I think about going on a little vacation but nothing as major as moving into the city. I’ve been from there too, I was just younger before we settled out here in Summerhill.” 

They went quiet again, listening to the sound of rain pelting against the boarded up windows while Jack’s socked foot tapped against the table leg. His arm draped along the couch rest and the other rested out against the back as it had been earlier while fingers had found themselves tracing at the fine hairs at the nape of Brock’s neck, a detail Brock could definitely appreciated while the weather was being a hassle outside.

“Thanks Jack, for showin’ up. I dunno if I’d really be able to deal with this mess on my own, but I guess you figured that out real quick.” He reached back, taking Jack’s hand in his and just held on, easing in closer just to be near him and sighing inwardly when he lost the rest of what he wanted to say.

“Brock.”

He turned Jack’s way and those green eyes seemed to be studying him; as Brock opened his mouth to ask what that expression was for, Jack’s hand slipped from his to the back of his neck, pulling him in closer until lips met his. 

Brock couldn’t help the small gasp of surprise against Jack’s mouth, his hands instinctively pressed up against the chest before him in the ready yet found himself not doing it; instead his fingers gripped at the fabric of Jack’s shirt despite not being able to return the kiss he’d so badly daydreamed about.

He could see the moment Jack was aware of his mistake, the realization that Brock didn’t kiss him back. They were both wearing expressions of confusion for entirely different reasons and as Jack flinched back, Brock had lost himself in why he didn’t kiss back. Words were muttered but he missed whatever his friend had said under his breath, Jack’s hand raking over his mouth as he blinked in surprised and Brock only came back to reality when Jack pushed off the couch.

“I- I’m sorry, Brock. I thought maybe you felt the same way and I took a chance. I shouldn’t have, especially with you grieving and- ”

Pulling himself up to face him, Brock wanted to say something, to stop him and say he was just surprised and Jack could go ahead and kiss him again, have a fresh try but his tongue was heavy in his mouth and didn’t want to move. He just couldn’t explain it and all he did was shake his head, a quirk of a partial smile at his lips in an attempt at being okay with things and too numb to do anything else. He was sure he was probably looking like a real ass for it. 

Wasn’t the kiss with Jack what he wanted?

“I should probably leave.” Jack announced as he turned and made his way around the couch, blindly looking for his coat.

That forced Brock to move into action, following after Jack and grabbing his arm to stop him. “You can’t. Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ you get outta here with a fuckin’ hurricane goin’ on out there.” 

Pursing his lips, Jack frowned. “It’s not that bad- ”

“ _Like hell_. Shit’s been rollin’ past the windows. You came over ‘ere to make sure shit was pinned down and that I was really ready fer it. No way I’m lettin’ ya leave in the middle of it. What if a tree fell on yer fool head or somethin’? No way I’m gonna be tellin’ Nick or anyone else that shit.” He frowned, frustrated with him for trying to leave. “Yeah, maybe nothin’ would happen but I can’t chance it.”

Jack stared a long moment, quickly deflating with a tired exhale and a shake of his head. “Fine, alright. You win, Brock.”

Easing up and dropping his hand away, Brock tersely nodded as he watched him carefully. “Good, glad ya got back to yer damn senses then.”

They stayed that way for a few moments, seconds dragging on by and Brock didn’t really know what to say or do next, especially in the encroaching darkness. He knew what he would have liked to be doing if he was kissing Jack back, not shy about those moments when he was with someone he liked, but he had to listen to his instincts. He had his reasons. He wasn’t willing to lose Jack. No, this was better right now: Jack got that, and messing around with feelings looming would have been another problem Brock wasn’t willing to deal with right now.

He watched Jack move around and get a few more candles to illuminate the room and busy himself while Brock forced himself to do a little clean up, placing dishes in the sink for later and setting the shelf box by the door. He turned to see what Jack was up to and was met with a deck of cards held up and a sheepish expression. Brock got that look too well, the air of awkwardness, trying to ignore what just happened when they should be talking it out. He had to explain himself but he just couldn’t deal with it on top of what was going on around them; it probably wasn’t one of his best decisions but Jack understood; or at least he seemed to.

“Cards downstairs?”

Nodding to him, Brock moved towards the basement, “You can set ‘em up, beer?”

Ignoring the heavy sigh before the yes Jack let out, Brock let the odd pick up of his heartbeat settle before he grabbed a pair of bottles out of the cooler. He listened to that distinct sound of old stairs creaking beneath Jack’s weight, watching one of the gas lanterns illuminate at the doorway before the light began to slowly trail away. 

The basement was one place in the house aside from the attic Brock really didn’t like going through and he was a little glad for Jack to be down there first to light it up. Hopefully it would help make it look less like a serial killer was hiding there.

There was the sound of furniture shuffling around while Brock placed the battery powered radio at the top of the stairs before he took his descent, ignoring too many horror movies he’d seen about hands grabbing at ankles through the spaces behind the steps. Jack was already sitting down on a lawn chair and shuffling cards, one of the heavy duty flashlights sitting in the middle with the light shining towards the ceiling. The lantern he took with him sat perched close by on a third plastic chair. 

Brock hadn’t been down there too many times; mostly taking one look at the web and dust covered boxes, lawn tools and furniture then going right back upstairs. It wasn’t a large space, but it was decent for storage once he got rid of a lot of the stuff stored away from the past owners. At least Jack managed to make the spot where he sat look somewhat decent, the brightness of the lights eradicating a lot of shadows and making it less creepy. 

There was talk of flooding and he hoped because he was on a little bit of a slope that it wasn’t an issue. Even Jack had told him so but it still lingered at the back of his head.

The wind wailed past the small window, Brock’s head darting up towards the first floor when something knocked up against the side of the house and he folded his arms across his chest anxiously. It was ridiculous, he’d been through earthquakes and snowstorms with no worries and the chances of high winds destroying his house were so slim they weren’t even asked to evacuate out of town. Still, Brock was a little affected by it, watching something fly past the window that wasn’t even covered and he only turned to the table when Jack snapped his fingers for his attention.

“Hey focus on what we’re gonna play, not out there.” 

Brock nodded and approached the chair pushed out for him, warily settling onto it with one last look towards the window before he switched to fixating onto Jack shuffling the deck, large hands easily gaining his attention.

The first few games were settling alright, but he could see Jack peeking at him from time to time like he was checking up. Jack seemed to be wondering about him more than feeling sorry for himself over the misstep. 

The old radio Brock had left at the top of the steps for reception reasons was mostly static but occasionally they got a faint stream of music filling the void that would have usually been covered by the two of them talking about life. Still, it was noticeably tense for the both of them, only talking when calling out cards or if one was climbing back upstairs to grab more beers or a snack. 

Later Jack placed his cards face down, picking up the empties and getting out of his chair for more. He came back, hand tenuously resting the bottle near Brock’s arm and he paused, not moving until Brock turned his face, purposefully not meeting his eyes.

“Are you really okay with all this? You’re..quiet.”

The concern had grown more than Brock had figured but he still didn’t want to make Jack uncomfortable while cooped up in the house together. He rubbed at the back of his neck, forcing eyes to connect and he nodded, “Yeah, jus thinkin’ too much ‘bout this weather..”

Eventually they switched it up to a handful of board games that were collecting dust on a back shelf and he felt like both of them finally ended up forgetting about the kiss for the time being. Brock even managed a small laugh when he ultimately succeeded in beating Jack over competitive game of Chutes and Ladders.

It was when Jack was yawning that Brock thought it was time for actual sleep. He hadn’t noticed when the wind and other noises had died out outside. He hadn’t planned that far ahead either, despite having more than one bedroom. Brock wasn’t going to dwell on it too much in the basement and was getting the hell out of it the moment Jack felt they could, watching him look towards the tiny window to assess the situation. 

When he nodded that they were good, they both made their way upstairs and approached the front door to survey the damage outside. It wasn’t so bad, some old ratty furniture thrown around and caught against trees or lost in the overgrown hedges he had yet to take care of. There were a lot of leaves and branches with a lot of other random debris that freely flew with the breeze but but mostly it seemed fine.

“It’s calmed down now, it’s probably a good time for me to head home.” 

Rolling his eyes at the sheer ignorance, Brock folded his arms and gave him a _look_. “Ain’t no way yer driving out there in the dark. Who knows who else is out there. No fuckin’ way, you stay put inside ‘til mornin’.” 

Jack’s brows rose towards his hairline but he didn’t argue, until Brock gestured to the bedroom, “You can sleep in my room, I’ll take the couch.”

“There’s no way I’m taking your bed while you get that couch, I’ll take it.” 

“Jack- ”

But Brock already knew he wasn’t having any of it, eyes following as Jack walked up the stairs with a flashlight in hand and easily located the linen cabinet. It didn’t have much but the bedding box Brock had packed up was already sitting in there as were some of the pillows. Jack had everything he needed, coming back downstairs with a pillow under each arm and some sheets.

Giving him a glare when Jack passed, Brock went to his bedroom to grab a spare blanket plus a change of clothes just in case, coming back to see a sheet spread across the couch and a little bit of regret crossing his heart for not offering to share the bed. Jack would have probably declined, and it was too dangerous to even tempt fate with it.

Because Brock was worried that Jack would only take off out of embarrassment while he was sleeping, he dropped the blanket onto the couch and pulled him in for a hug to acknowledge how okay they really were. He held him as tightly as he could, his brows coming together as he closed his eyes and arms returned the embrace, warm and welcoming, Brock letting his chin rest against Jack’s waiting shoulder.

“Thank you.”

Jack’s fingers lightly grazed along his spine, head tilted ever so slightly against Brock’s, “For?”

“You know why.”

He had mostly gotten over the shock of Mike’s death as of late and the numbness that came with it, though not the idea of him being gone. That was something he was sure he wouldn’t be able to let go: he missed his company, their friendship. The peace of mind they gave each other.

It was just hard to let go of all the old habits and rituals he had around another person and how that was so cemented there for those short lived years. Then Jack was here, making things better in his own way and the kiss had turned out unlike what either of them expected, but he only seemed to take it in some kind of awkward stride. 

“You can’t be all that surprised.”

Brock hummed lightly in agreement, maybe he’d been hopeful but never wanted to think too hard on it. He had to make sure that Jack knew he only appreciated him more, that he was still there no matter the misstep. It seemed Jack did understand how important this was, feeling his arms tightening as he uttered a few sorry’s that Brock didn’t want to hear. 

They lingered like that for a long while before Brock finally decided to break apart and although he didn’t want to let go, was worried Jack would still leave, it wasn’t until Jack moved his hands up to gingerly cradle Brock’s head and press a kiss to his forehead that everything was alright and _too much_ all at once. It sank in more heavily that Jack was always going to be _Jack_ and Brock wasn’t sure how to reciprocate so much goodness back to him. He drew away as carefully as he could, ducking his head while pretending to rub at his eye; he forced himself up to bed without another word and tried to ignore the twisted way his chest began to hurt.

Brock awoke to the smell of coffee and bacon, the sun blinding him and the clock radio still blacked out. No power. Trudging downstairs was a sight for sore eyes, mainly because of Jack’s back stretching out a white t-shirt he could really get used to seeing him in on a regular basis, or not wearing and also the fact that he had put on Brock’s sweats which, while short at the hem, did wonders for his ass.

Jack glanced up from the counter, a breakfast sandwich ready to serve and a look of surprise across his face, “Hey, you’re up. Morning.” 

“Yeah, mornin’..” Brock rubbed at his eyes, catching a steaming mug beside the plate. “What time is it?”

Jack was on it, gesturing with his head to follow him to the kitchen table with the food and coffee, “After making a call, I can confidently tell you it’s nine in the morning.” He pointed a spoon at the counter where a wall clock sat, “I hope you don’t mind, there was a clock on top of one of the boxes. I put in some batteries and set the time for you, power’s gonna be out for a few days at least.”

“Thanks.” Brock heard himself mutter, the scent of food causing his stomach to growl as he reached for the coffee to take a few easy sips. It took a few seconds for it all to sink in, the lack of a second table setting, Jack already out of the kitchen, Brock turned towards the living room only to see him shrugging on his jacket, “Where the hell you goin’?”

Jack glanced his way, “Home? It’s passed through, everything’s fine. I gotta get back and help clean up the farm, make sure all the fencing is still ok and repair whatever needs repairing.” He softened the expression of surprise across his face as he stepped back onto the wood flooring in the kitchen, “You okay?”

Mug held before his lips, Brock could only stare at him a few seconds, their gaze lingering and all he wanted to say was _no_ , he wasn’t; instead he nodded and dropped his eyes like last night, busying himself with his coffee.

“Alright,” Jack replied quietly, zipping up his jacket. “Are you still coming out for Sam’s poker night?”

“I ain’t sure I can make it this week.” Brock admitted as put his cup down beside the plate. It was a brand new day now that he was rested but he was still not as settled as he hoped not wanting to build Jack up for another fall but knowing they shared feelings for each other. He glanced up and wished he didn’t, the unmistakable sign of hurt across Jack’s face set Brock’s day up to be a lousy one.

“Sure, you have things to do. Well, I guess I’ll see you sometime later.” Jack turned and left without even saying goodbye, unlocking the door and slipping outside, quickly pulling it closed behind him.

Brock watched after him, the smell of food and coffee making him suddenly feel sick as he pushed them across the table and as far away as he could, chair scraping across the floor when he decisively decided to remove himself out of it and trudged up the stairs to get back into bed.

Pausing at the top, his hand ran along the bannister in thought before turning around to trek back down, making his way to the folded up blanket and pillows Jack used. He gathered them up and took everything upstairs with him just to place over his own bedding and laid out against them.

He kept telling himself it was going to be fine, that he was going to fine.

He definitely didn’t feel fine though.

*****

Brock was on autopilot through the rest of the week, not in the mood to talk to anyone. He wasn’t sure if he was down because he didn’t return the kiss, or because Jack seemed to feel terrible for attempting it. Whichever it was, he suddenly realized he never felt so alone in his life.

Repeatedly he thought about picking up the phone just to call Jack, but what could he really say? They hadn’t said a word to one another since the day at his house; even when Jack happened to be at the same place, he had the habit of taking off just mere moments after Brock arrived. Sometimes he even wondered if he saw Jack or if he made it up in hopes that he did. Brock had gotten a few choice moments where he could talk to Jack alone if he so chose, catching him once walking off towards the hiking trails again and another time he saw him step out of Banner’s antique shop saying a few words with a wave before going off in the opposite direction without realizing he was there. But Brock never tried to take the chance.

He thought about maybe talking to Bucky about it, or maybe Wanda, but the both of them had made themselves scarce as of late. Bucky seemed at lot more careful around him; they were still friends of course, but it was obvious that supporting Jack was more important. Brock didn’t blame him.

He really got the idea that it wasn’t only him when Peggy dropped by the garage and tried to have a chat but he brushed her off, busy under the hood of a car. Unfortunately, she glared at him until he finally looked up her way, and pursed her perfectly painted red lips with an expression of sheer disappointment, Sam at his desk in the back watching over his clipboard without even trying to hide it.

“What?” Brock finally asked.

She sighed as he continued to stare at her, shaking her head at him as if he could read her mind. “Fix it, Darling.” 

Turning on her heel, she walked off and back into the sunshine. Brock turned towards Sam for an explanation, and his friend only shrugged helplessly before going back to work.

He didn’t understand why it was meant for him, what was the big deal if he and Jack had a falling out? Maybe she said the same thing to Jack? He wasn’t sure. Did Jack miss him like Brock missed him? He didn’t even know how to make everything right again.

Could he even fix it if he tried to?

*****

Brock’s not at all surprised when more opinions butt in a couple days later.

Sam held his weekly poker game and everything just spilled over when his friend made an offhand comment about Jack declining to attend; he added that it was probably because of their apparent couple fight which caused a round of nervous laughter. It was suddenly clear to Brock how a lot of people were walking on eggshells around him. It was their problem, but apparently he didn’t have a say on that.

“There ain’t no couple fight.” Brock ground out, glaring straight at his cards and nothing else, “You’d haveta be in a relationship in the first place.”

The chuckles died down and he peeked up to see Steve glance uncomfortably at Bucky while Sam shared a look with Clint. Brock placed his cards down and folded his arms over his chest with a frown. “What?”

“Sorry Brock, it’s just that- ” Bucky began, shrugging aimlessly when he couldn’t figure out what to follow that up with.

Brock sighed, “It ain’t. I jus, I gotta find time fer myself, yanno? I spent my whole life fightin’ against the norm only to end up doin’ exactly what everyone wanted. I can’t be anythin’ with Jack if I’m still tryin’ to figure that out.” 

The room was quiet, T’Challa shuffling in the open kitchen. “It is good you made that choice, Brock. Better to find a place for yourself before bringing another in, Jack understands that and if he cares that much for you, then he will wait.”

Watching Steve drape an arm around Bucky’s shoulders while nodding in agreement, Brock turned his head to give T’Challa a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

M’Baku snatched the cards away from Sam, the latter throwing his hands up in frustration as a few fell onto the table. “What are we doing here? I did not come visit for a funeral. Boohoo the man he loves has to wait. Let us get back to the cards, I was winning! And cousin, I see you trying to throw away all those tofu patties I brought over, don’t think I cannot from here!”

Brock nudged his foot under the table at the behemoth across from him. “Hey, I ain’t in love.”

M’Baku flashed him a look of offense. “Do not insult my intelligence, rarely have I time for a visit and the way you mope like a sad dog is so pathetic! I should not have to witness it!”

Bucky snorted, holding his fist out with a grin and M’Baku casually kept his eyes locked with Brock as his own fist came out to bump against the one waiting for him.

T’Challa grinned. “Go back to cheating. Oh my apologies, I mean winning. My fine husband is the one that thinks tofu should be banned from our home.”

Sam hissed with a wave to keep quiet as he scrunched his face, M’Baku already turning his way to give him a dirty look. He held his hands up in surrender, “Look man, tofu is the _devil_. I just said- ”

“I am taking back those tickets to the football game on Sunday, you are not deserving of such a gift!”

“And miss the game?! You can’t take them back, that’s against the law!”

Hands went on hips, M’Baku pushing his chair back in preparation to stand, “And whose law is that?”

Clint scooted away just in case, taking a handful of chips with him and his beer while Steve, Bucky and Brock watched the back and forth going on between the pair, loud speaking slowly escalating to shouting which only eased up when a tray of food was put down between them and T’Challa had an expression of absolute serenity. “Eat. All of you. At least with full mouths we’ll have some peace.”

Despite the hilarity going on before him, Brock couldn’t help feeling guilty over the fact that Jack was missing out spending time with people he’d known before Brock ever did.

*****

The next day followed up with even more pressure to do something when the Fury’s red truck pulled up in front of the garage the next day, Brock felt his heart leap into his throat. He still hadn’t spoken to Jack and didn’t dare set foot in the diner. He had settled for scraps of whatever he could pull together for dinner - and for lunches, T’Challa would send Sam along with extra food, the saint of all saints.

Brock peeked out from under the hood he was working under and, seeing Wanda and Natasha climb out of the truck, returned to what he was doing while Sam headed towards them.

“Hey ladies, what’s wrong with this beauty today?”

Natasha patted the side of the truck fondly. “This baby needs a tune up, Sam.”

Brock inconspicuously watched as Sam gave the vehicle a look over and nodded, “I’ll get my best guy on it for you.”

Snorting to himself, Brock raised his voice slightly as he leaned his head out. “I’m yer only guy!” 

Natasha turned full body towards him, her gaze sharpening. “Just make sure he doesn’t screw it up like he did with my brother.” 

“Tasha.” Wanda mumbled softly, trying to tug her sibling away.

Tossing his wrench against the tool tray with a loud clatter, Brock narrowed his eyes. No one was going tell him he was in the wrong when he was only trying to be honest. “And what’s that supposedta mean?”

“You know what it means.” She took a step in from the mouth of the garage and Brock wasn’t sure if she was readying for something more than just telling him off.

“Hey, hey now. ” Sam stood between them, turning with a smile to Natasha. “We’ll have the truck ready by the morning. It’s nice to see you and Wanda today, but we should probably get back to work.”

Wanda smiled, tugging her sister again, and this time Natasha gave in, dropping her glare to nod at Sam and flash a smile his way. “Thanks Sam, _reliable_ as ever. We’ll see you in the morning.”

He grinned and gave them a wave as Wanda kept a tight hold on Nat, talking to her sharply when the garage was out of earshot as they both headed for the diner.

Sam turned around his way, hands on hips, and Brock raised his brows. “What I do now?”

Pursing his lips a moment as he glared up at the ceiling, Sam shook his head. “You need to fix this.”

Brock was pretty sure he heard incorrectly, throwing himself back into what he was doing. “Fix what? I didn’t do nothin’ to either of ‘em and I ain’t ready. You know this.”

Approaching, Sam rested his hands on the edge of the car. “And you know I don’t mean it that way, but you want to be friends with Jack, don’t you?”

Raising his head from the glare he was giving the engine, Brock shrugged. “Well sure. There is somethin’ there between us I jus’, I don’t know.”

“Then what the hell are you doing avoiding him? Be his friend.”

Setting aside the ratchet he was holding, Brock mulled around for the wrench he had earlier. “It’s..hard to be around him.”

Sam leaned in closer, knowing private matters didn’t need to echo outside of the garage. “I hope it’s because you have big stupid feelings about him and not because of something else like him not respecting boundaries.”

Coughing out a laugh, Brock shook his head. “He’s a pure gentleman if you gotta know.”

“Ah!” The glint in Sam’s eye caused Brock to huff out a breath at how silly this all was. “Big stupid feelings are always a problem. I know the feeling.”

“Yeah, a big problem.” Brock muttered out, feeling a little exposed like this. He went back to fixing the bolt he was on and only paused, tilting his head Sam’s way when his friend didn’t leave. “..Don’t ya gotta work or somethin’?”

“Unnerving you is better. Besides, I’m waiting for Clint to pull up with a Buick he called in about.” 

Brock righted himself and stepped towards the tool chest. “I think I prefer hangin’ out with yer husband a lot more than I like you hoverin’.” 

Sam feigned surprise, pressing a hand against his chest, “That’s some stone cold shit right there. I know for a fact you like me more, don’t bring your negative energy into our friendship.”

Laughing because he couldn’t help himself, Brock turned Sam’s way and they shared it together, his friend wearing a smug look across his face and Brock suddenly realized what he was up to, giving his eyes a roll at the fact that he fell for Sam’s gentle way of getting him to cheer up a little. He nudged Sam towards the entrance. “Go work on that truck while yer waitin’ and quit badgerin’ me.” 

Giving him one last grin, Sam nodded and finally decided to leave him alone again.

*****

By the time Saturday rolled in, Brock didn’t want to leave his bed, burrowing himself in deeper under his blankets, knowing he couldn’t carry on like this. Jack made him happy, and he wanted so badly to think that when they mended it, he’d be able to give that same feeling to Jack.

Around lunch was when he finally climbed out, hitting the bathroom for a shower to wake himself up. He had no clue if Jack would be there when he showed, if Natasha would launch an all out offense on him for stepping on the property, or if Nick would just tell him to fuck off, but he was willing to take the risk.

His stomach flipped around constantly on his way, eyeing the gate as he began the walk of their property line. He almost stopped the whole mission when he noticed Wanda at the mailbox with her back turned to him, knowing she could possibly ruin his visit before he even crossed the boundary. Though, as he watched long brown hair dance along with the passing breeze, he had a good feeling she wouldn’t do that.

Wanda turned when she noticed she was being watched, a handful of letters in hand and eyes widening a fraction. She made no effort to move or even smile but Brock finished his walk from the road, standing before her with a tight, unsure smile. 

She met him with a careful. “Hi.”

“Hey Wanda.” He felt his chest loosen a little. 

She moved, a half pivot; very subtle, but she was now completely between him and the farm itself. “How can I help you?”

He could at least count on her to keep an open dialogue. “I miss him. I jus wanna talk.”

Wanda’s eyes studied him and Brock held his place; when she was satisfied she half turned to place herself beside him, a tilt of her head telling him to walk. Brock still didn’t know who was around or what kind of grief he was setting himself up for, putting him on edge again.

“He misses you too.”

Brock blinked, glancing her way but not saying anything. Wanda didn’t make any eye contact, more interested in a brand-new Sears catalog.

As he looked ahead again, Jack emerged from the side of the house, immediately seeing the two of them heading his way. Brock almost expected him to bolt; instead Jack lingered and Brock felt his heartbeat picking up, if just a little. 

“I’m about to mess all this up, again.”

This time Wanda did peer his way. “You won’t. Just say what you feel like saying, it’s all you need to do. All he wants to do is be there for you, just like he wants to be there for us. You’re important, Brock.”

The last bit struck him all the way down to his core, abruptly stopping in surprise, and Wanda stopped with him, concern etched in her features. “Brock?”

One side of his mouth turned up in a half smile, “I’m jus, surprised you said that.”

Wanda gently tugged his arm to start him walking again, “Well, I can’t take all the credit, Jack was the one who said it.” 

He couldn’t help the way his face warmed and refused to say anything that might give him away. He let his eyes drop towards the ground while Jack continued to watch, arms loosely folded over his chest and _God_ , Brock missed him so much.

Forcefully swallowing down all his hesitations, Brock reminded himself he had no time for it if he yearned to break the silence. Wanda gave him a hopeful smile as she swept by the both of them, handing Jack a couple of letters before taking herself inside. Brock was left standing there with Jack leaning under a tree, his gaze focused on the top letter in his hand, flipping it to the back to tear it open.

“So, I jus came over to say m’sorry. I’m still tryin’ and ya didn’t do anythin’ wrong. I’m jus all screwy but I miss ya bein’ around. I never meant to put that space between us.”

Jack had been biting his lip pensively. “I didn’t either. I’d rather be friends than go on trying to pretend you don’t exist.”

Brock couldn’t help but stare. “So ya really were avoidin’ me?”

Jack shrugged. “Thought that’s what you wanted..”

The urge to pull Jack in and kiss him, just to prove that he didn’t want that, came over Brock. It derailed everything he had practiced saying on his way over. None of it seemed to matter, in any case: Jack didn’t even notice the sudden reaction and went back to the letter. 

Brock lightly kicked at Jack’s shoe to get his attention. “What’s in there that’s got ya so distracted?”

“Uh.” Jack licked his lips nervously, a hand ruffling through his hair and leaving it a little unkempt in its wake. “It’s..from a lawyer. It says that my parents are alive and..” His hand rubbed over his mouth, eyes not lifting from the heavy paper. Brock could make out a solicitor’s details at the top. “They want to see me.”

Brock’s gaze went to Jack, to his slightly ruffled hair, then back to the letter. “They know where you are?”

“What?” Jack was suddenly out of his apparent daze; the paper was hastily folded, closed and shoved into his back pocket. “No. Anyone digging around gets my aunt, who’s an amazing lawyer, and a layer of protection just in case. Anyway about what you said.. I’d definitely like to go back to how we were.” He paused in thought, "Maybe come by the diner for lunch tomorrow? I’ll be in, we can chat some more then.”

Studying him for a moment, Jack seemed to be facing Brock’s way but his eyes seemed to go distant again, and Brock was tempted to point it out. “How’d they even find ya? Weren’t they arrested?”

Jack pulled the letter out again and scanned it over. “They were. It’s the first I’ve heard of it though..”

“M’sure Nick was makin’ sure you weren’t dealin’ with that bullshit, you’d be what? Sixteen or seventeen back then?”

“Yeah.” Jack mumbled, skimming the pages as he tugged softly at his earlobe. “It says they went through some kind of mandatory program, now they want to have a one on one with me.”

Stepping into Jack’s space, Brock reached out and gingerly drew Jack’s hand away from his ear, the spot glowing a soft red. “Yer thinkin’ too much about this. Sleep on it, do it slowly.”

Jack was expressive, no matter how calm he tried to look. Brock could see the slight slope of his mouth, the way his brows shifted inward, even his fingers curled into loose fists on the letter. It was more instinct for Brock than an actual plan as he tilted his head upwards while guiding Jack in with a caress of his jaw. Jack followed without a word and leaned into the gesture, the act so charmingly docile that Brock almost couldn’t process it. 

Their foreheads met and Jack’s eyes slipped closed, Brock comforted by the heavy weight of his friend’s hand resting at his hip. It felt like it was grounding him as much as Jack. “I mean it, Jackie. Give it a few days.”

Brock lingered a little after he felt him nod, reluctantly pulling away so he wasn’t wearing out his welcome. He nodded with a smirk that Jack picked up easily and slapped a hand on his shoulder to give it a squeeze before withdrawing. “I should get goin’.” 

He hated how quick it all was after being so close but forced himself to head home, before he said something he wasn’t ready for - or better yet, _did_ something he wasn’t ready for.

It wasn’t until he was about to head to bed that night that regret reared its ugly head: not pushing for more answers, and making sure Jack really was alright, and Bucky was calling his name through the front door while pounding on it over and over again. Brock tore it open with an expression he really hoped sent out the right message but it fell away when he saw Wanda standing behind her brother, bundled in a warm coat and looking extremely sad. Parked close in his police car was Steve, Pietro staring directly at him from the back seat, and Brock realized there was suddenly a level of urgency in the situation. 

“Is he hiding here?” Bucky asked, though with no intention of waiting for a reply - he only squirmed past him and Brock forgot to feel insecure about the cluttered mess, turning his attention to Wanda for an explanation. Her eyes were wide and red rimmed, as if she knew already that whoever it was wasn’t there. Brock felt a pang of worry for her, a tiny urge to console her in any way he could. She only looked at him helplessly and he allowed her step in, a hand reaching out to hold him at his shoulder.

“Jack’s run off.”

Narrowing his eyes at her, Brock wondered if he heard her correctly, “What do ya mean run off?” 

“He got a letter in the mail about his parents, now he’s gone. Everyone else is covering the other side of town, he wouldn’t have just left but I’m still worried about him.” 

_The letter._

Brock replayed the events from earlier; he didn’t feel like anything would have made Jack just leave on his own, but now he wasn’t sure. Bucky finally returned, jogging down the steps and satisfied that Jack wasn’t pulling some kind of childish prank that Brock was in on. Giving him an apologetic smile, Bucky stuffed his hand nervously into his jeans pocket. “Sorry Brock, I just had to make sure.”

Brock waved him off as they stepped back outside. “Keep me updated. And if he shows up ‘ere I’ll call the station and they can radio Steve.” 

“Good thinking,” Bucky added as he followed Wanda outside, already heading back to the patrol car. At the bottom stair he turned back. “I’m sure he’ll return before dawn. He just goes off on walks to think sometimes, but Wanda still worries.”

Only nodding, Brock watched them leave. When the headlights of the patrol car were out of his sight, he leaned back inside to reach for his coat on the hook. There was a place Brock had in mind out of many possibilities, and as much as he could relate to wanting some time alone, he still wanted to make sure he was okay. Maybe even offer up some company.

It took him a little while to find it, trying to maneuver around in the dark by memory instead of in the day, and he almost missed it, lucky that Jack wasn’t actually trying to hide and that the red pickup was pulled over to the side. He parked and took himself into the faint path through the tree line, trying his best not to trip. Jack was there, as he had suspected, sitting on the same blanket they used for their picnic, bundled in his coat and watching the twinkle of soft lights blanketing over Summerhill.

“Thought I might find ya here.” 

Jack looked back over his shoulder and Brock could only shrug with his hands shoved into pockets of his coat, unsure of if he was welcome or not.

“Hey.”

It was all Jack said before returning his gaze over the town and Brock took it as an open invitation, walking over tentatively before he sat himself down next to him. “Everyone’s lookin’ for ya. Wanda’s pretty upset.”

Guilt crossed Jack’s face and his hands clasped together. “Is she? I wasn’t thinking straight. I just needed to get out of there and get some air.” 

Brock nodded, because he knew the feeling. “I ain’t really one to talk to with serious things, but I can try..if ya want. I shouldn’t have left ya there with that letter.”

Jack seemed to consider the offer, before turning back to the view ahead. “I don’t wanna see them, but then I do? I guess. I just don’t really know how to feel. Sometimes I’m a little pissed off, or angry, and other times I’m curious about them. I have no idea who they are or what they look like anymore but - I don’t know how I’d react.” 

Brock chewed over what was said. “Listen, maybe this is a little selfish to say- ” He ran a hand over his mouth as Jack turned to look at him, offering his undivided attention. “But, Nick and Wanda and everyone else, they’re yer family. These two people that wanna see you, sure they’re yer blood but that’s all they are. They abandoned you and never looked back. Maybe they got some sort of sad story and you’ll forgive ‘em, yeah? But whatever happens, good or bad, it won’t change what you have with yer real family. You ain’t gotta welcome your biological parents with open arms. That’s yer choice, no one else’s.” 

He watched Jack contemplate that for a long while, head turned to the sea of lights, and if the circumstances were different, Brock might have thought this was an almost perfect moment just with him.

“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t know why I’m taking it like it’s a big deal.”

“It _is_ a big deal, Jack. These people left ya and if you really want the truth from me, I’m a little pissed off they even bothered trying to get into contact with ya, sendin’ this extra grief yer way.” Brock paused with a sigh, turning to look towards the lights himself. “I get it though. I do. If Mike hadn’t passed on who knows how long we woulda kept up that charade. I miss him, I truly do... but it was also a wake up call.”

Jack raised a brow. “So you turned your life upside down and moved out here.”

Brock raised a brow back at him. “Would ya let me finish, asshole? Besides, I think it worked out. Okay yeah, it’s hard to come back to an empty place but I’m beginnin’ to get used to it, and I’m slowly cleanin’ it out too. One day at a time. My point is, whatever decision you make, it ain’t gonna change ya, because you already know who yer dad is and who yer brothers and sisters are. You’re yer own person and no matter how damn obvious that is, it took me a long while to figure that one out. Keep that shit in that big head of yours when you’re makin’ a decision. No one’s gonna change ya Jack, you answer to jus yerself, no one else.” 

Jack stared at him for a long moment before he nodded, taking his eyes away again, and Brock felt a spark of boldness, reaching his hand out to rest against Jack’s own. Jack slipped his hand out from under only to turn it palm up and tangle their fingers together. They didn’t talk anymore, only soaking in the sight of the town before them. Brock scooted a little closer until their thighs rested together and they shared each other’s body heat. His head fell against Jack’s shoulder. The way Jack did it told Brock, at least in that moment, everything was once again alright.


	5. Chapter 5

Things seemed to shift for the better almost immediately. They both seemed to easily settle back into their old routine like it was the most natural thing in the world, jokes and jabs coming in as if they never left. The kiss wasn’t brought up again. Their unspoken feelings sat between them though, up in the air, that was clear; Jack stole glances that Brock knew he shouldn’t have caught and he himself had a hard time when Jack was anywhere near him. 

The downside to that was that his feelings for Jack grew as days carried on by. It was unavoidable of course, Jack always did things that were completely natural to him but were perfect to Brock. Sometimes, they’d sneak into the diner after hours. It wasn’t disallowed, but it was always at night and just felt more private. Jack felt like trying to bake something new and Brock would just tag along. No matter how questionable the ingredient combinations could be, Jack made them mesh together and every bite was a treat. Brock was smitten despite the extra miles he’d need the next morning to burn it off. 

When Jack was baking was always the best time to admire how attractive he was, to see how easy it was for him to be charming and generous. Brock would get lost mooning over qualities Jack had, hating how easily the guy could make him laugh. Brock also found it unfair that Jack only grew more appealing when he saw him feeding scraps to a mangy looking dog out back one day and speaking to it like he was understanding every little bark it let out. That was definitely cheating, somehow. 

Even around Michael, Brock was never this comfortable and this attached. It was almost scary how quickly everything went from nothing to Jack being on his mind constantly and despite his struggles, he had to keep it buried away. Just having Jack around should be good enough and he had to keep T’Challa’s advice on hand: to remember he was taking care of himself first and foremost, no matter what level of torture it was turning out to be. 

The moment their schedules lined up, Brock wanted the mending of their friendship to be official, in his own way, even if they had already cleared the air. He was thankful at least that enough time had passed where he could plan a day for them together in Roseville and not seem like he was doing it because of that night. The only aim was to take Jack out and do something fun, his treat. They would just do a day trip to peruse the mall, hit the arcade they had wanted to check out all the time but never did, go see the latest Nightmare on Elm Street and choose a nice restaurant for dinner. He owed Jack for all the times he bullied him out of paying, and today Brock was putting his foot down.

It was late when they got back into town. The entire twenty minute ride to Brock’s place after their whole adventure was silent for the most part, save for the radio. Jack hadn’t fought tooth and nail to pay for things and only complained about it once - or rather once an hour; but never insistently. Brock felt good making Jack happy and if the horror movie startled him a little, enough to curl an arm around Jack’s, he never used it against him. It was a good trade-off. 

Once they pull up to the house, Jack cut the engine and killed off the music in one sharp turn, the only noises left being the soft sound of bullfrogs somewhere in the thrush. Next to him, Jack was completely quiet - Brock worried that, somehow, Jack could hear the rapid beat of his heart

Neither of them had moved to get out or even slip out of their seat belts, one of Jack’s arms stretched out to the steering wheel while his fingers lightly tapped at it, and his other rested against his leg. Brock knew his habit was to jump out of the car before Jack could even try to get out to walk him to the door, so he couldn’t blame him for staying put, but for once he really wanted Jack to _do something_. 

He sighed at himself over that: he wanted Jack to try again despite making it clear it wasn’t going to work. Sure, it was never the plan when Brock set out to go to town, but the longer they spent together without anyone they knew watching them like hawks, the deeper Brock felt himself sink into the dark hole he had dug for himself.

He could feel those green eyes watching him and drew in a breath, slowly undoing his seatbelt as he licked at his lips thinking of all those cliche teen movies he’d seen . Honestly he wasn’t sure _why_ he was even thinking about them; it was easy enough before, to get a guy inside his place with nothing but a hot session in the car. Brock got what he wanted when he wanted it - right now though, his palms were clammy and his skin was crawling and every stupid spontaneous cell in his body told him to answer to his instincts.

“Had a great time, again.” He said lamely, and mentally kicked himself. “Thanks fer not tryin’ to pay every single time, I woulda strangled ya.”

Jack gave him an earnest smile and Brock felt his skin warm. “Thanks for wanting to take me out, never had someone do that aside from family. You know I don’t always get the chance, but sometimes you just want to be around your best friend and enjoy their company.”

Brock was surprised, eyes widening a fraction. “Best friend? Enjoyin’ _my_ company?”

Mirth filled Jack’s eyes. “Yeah, is that okay? And you know I like your company, should know that by now, especially since..” 

Brock did, guilt welling up. He knew himself enough to know if the shoe was on the other foot and he attempted to kiss Jack, he may not have been so easily forgiving as Jack was. He broke from his thoughts when Jack tilted his head to look out the front window, right hand still resting on his thigh, and Brock gazed at it, the energy feeling electric. A little more courageous because of it he reached out, tentative and careful, his hand barely resting against the back of Jack’s and getting his attention again.

“Of course it’s okay. I’m pretty sure you’re my best friend too. And that night - I’ve been thinkin’ about that a lot.” His palm rubbed against Jack’s hand, slow and lazy, he carefully watched his friend’s face gather numerous minor expressions that weren’t all translatable.

Jack made a small noise that he was listening but didn’t say anything else. Brock didn’t blame him; who wanted to bring up something where it didn’t work out?

Fortunately Jack didn’t pull his hand away, and they sat there in the twilight for a little longer while Jack seemed to hold his breath and Brock tried to figure out what his next move was. He just wanted to be in Jack’s company and not end the evening. Maybe it was too early to ask him inside. Brock wanted a few things; forgiveness, another kiss maybe. Yeah, he definitely wanted another kiss from Jack, wanted to be ready for him this time.

He felt so damn conflicted. It was going to take a little time for him to get used to a lack of company, but he already understood that it didn’t mean he had to stop himself from being with someone and caring for them. He just felt so adamant that he should do this on his own, too stubborn to really think past that. Living with Mike wasn’t a situation with a boyfriend, it was lazy and easy with some definite benefits. They took each other for granted and he fell into something familiar, too comfortable to make something his own, stopping himself from finding a real relationship.

Brock wasn’t sure when he started to sound like some kind of therapist, shaking himself out of it the moment Jack made a small noise to clear his throat. He glanced over, fingers squeezing around the hand he was resting against.

“Brock, I don’t know exactly what you want from me. Sometimes I feel like I’m getting mixed signals and I don’t know if it’s just me...”

“You. I want you.” Brock admitted before Jack could even finish his thoughts.

It was getting darker outside but he could still see the warring expressions across Jack’s face; a little hurt, a little unsure because Brock made it clear he wouldn’t change his mind any time soon, and yet here he was telling him things he shouldn’t with barely a week gone after they mended fences.

“You know the whole situation in my head ain’t about you.”

“No?”

“Never was. I jus realized too late that I didn’t have to push ya away to be alright.”

Jack seemed to contemplate his words, regarding him carefully. “What’s changed?”

Feeling a little bold, Brock leaned in closer like he was ready to reveal a big secret, his mouth feeling dry. “Been denyin’ feelin’ somethin’ with you.. and I was goin’ about it all wrong.”

He knew Jack wanted to ask for more, to make things clear because he was unsure, wanted it all to be spelled out so that they were clear and he didn’t make another mistake like he did the first time, even if Brock didn’t consider it a mistake at all.

Instead, Brock curled his hand tighter around Jack’s and led it closer to himself. Jack went pliantly, curious and finally somewhat surprised when they were both pressing their hands between Brock’s legs and against his half-hard cock. He couldn’t help but let out a shaky laugh in the dark, a little embarrassed but riding on the adrenaline. 

Maybe back in the city this was normal, at some gay bar with anonymous men but this could go two ways with Jack, _his Jack_ , who looked like he could fight a bear and then laugh about it over a beer but was also such a gentleman you could definitely take him to meet your momma. Brock never wanted to introduce anyone he fucked around with to his family: this was definitely a first.

“Shit.” Jack blurted out, a little awed and maybe flattered, Brock definitely heard the tone in his voice. “I..I really had no idea it went that far.”

“Since day one.” Brock admitted rather easily, with a roll of his eyes. “No fuckin’ way I’m admitting to the townsfolk of Summerhill I’m so damn easy I had sex with Nick’s oldest son a few days in.”

Chuckling, Jack’s fingers tentatively rubbed along the thick zipper with careful pressure. “I’m not that easy to convince. Besides, some folks around here thought you’d already gotten involved with Carol. Me being one of them.”

Brock tried keeping his breathing even but it had been a while since someone that he wanted badly was touching him like this. “Yeah, figured. Don’t even know why I agreed to goin’ out for a coffee with her, I guess I was jus tryin’ to make some friends, but she really wasn’t interested in makin’ a friend..”

Jack nodded, his face showing he knew that all too well, his smile a little crooked and his hand still pressed under Brock’s. 

“Jack?” A small noise of recognition came forth. “I may be mad over yer parents contactin’ ya, but I’m glad that it led ya to Nick or we’d have never met.” 

“I keep thinking about how lucky I am to have met you too,” Jack murmured, his voice heavier than normal as lips formed into a careful smile. “I kept getting that feeling of purpose to it.”

Deciding that Jack’s demeanor was probably a good sign, Brock swiftly moved across the seat and onto his lap, just barely squeezing into the space between body and wheel. He pressed their mouths together in an almost urgent need and the response was immediate, Jack groaning into it.

Brock cupped his face, fingers sliding into hair and holding him in, cradling his head like he was special: he was, he wanted Jack to know this, to really understand how Brock felt, the reciprocation making it all worth it. He parted his lips just a little, just enough for Jack to ease in the rest of the way and lick shamelessly into his mouth. The heat of it all made Brock press closer, fingers tightening around locks of hair, and his mind went blank. It had been a little while since he’d let himself want something like this, and that was all he wanted with Jack, to revel in his orbit and keep himself undeniably close.

Brock could feel just how much Jack wanted this as much as he did, the hard line of his cock firmly pressed against him despite the layers of clothing between them. It was a tight fit but Brock still managed to rock with him in a perfect rhythm, especially when Jack finally quit being confused as to where to put his hands; they soon settled to rest at Brock’s hips, still careful but keeping him close as fingers dug in, leading a pace that hit just right and they both traded moans into each other’s mouths.

Hooking an arm around Jack’s neck to keep him close, Brock savored the drag of their mouths as they fought the kind of kisses they wanted to share. He preferred shorter ones in between their breathy groans but he could tell Jack relished in drawing them out, tasting and licking in. They were the ones that made Brock dizzy and lightheaded, sometimes making him pull away for a moment just to get back his bearings on where he was.

Brock couldn’t help the moan that spilled out when he dropped his head back for air, Jack’s mouth taking immediate advantage of exposed throat and sucking soft delicate marks into skin. Jack’s name began to be something Brock couldn’t stop saying at every breath, his eyes dancing along the roof of the truck as his lungs ached for air. He couldn’t help the absent smile creeping across his face because of just how _gentle_ Jack was about everything, even when one of his hands had slipped lower to cup at his ass. 

There were words he wanted to say to Jack; to go faster, harder, be rougher with him because he wasn’t made of glass. None of it managed to come out though, instead he was drunk on just being in Jack’s space, grinding up against him like they were teenagers disobeying their parents’ curfews instead of grown adults that had every right to end up like this. 

He shivered when Jack slid long fingers into the thickness of his hair, using the grip as leverage to move him how he wanted and it only made the deliriousness worse, Brock’s own hand moving down to grip at Jack’s broad shoulder and squeeze tighter around his thighs, already feeling perilously close to the edge.

He pulled away just enough to meet Jack’s eyes, wanting to see his face. Jack’s expression was a little dumbstruck, like he never thought he would get this far, lost in his own daze. Brock was sure he really didn’t think it would go this way but everything was perfect like this, and he only wanted to linger in all of it for a little while longer. 

“Hearing you say my name is definitely a turn on.” Jack whispered between pants of breath, pulling him in for more kisses, Brock’s short nails digging into his shoulder.

“Ya got a huge ego..” Brock muttered, laughing against Jack’s mouth when he felt him grin.

It quickly faded away when Brock continued to ride him shamelessly, chasing that friction. It was as adolescent as dry humping could be, and yet he was having fun as much as Jack seemed to be, it if the heavy breathing, firm hold and debauched expression was anything to go by.

“Ah, _fuck_ \- ” he grunted out against Jack’s mouth, dropping his head back again to just enjoy the ride. 

Jack only took the chance to suck at his pulse point, breath washing against Brock’s skin, teeth worrying flesh while fingers dug harder at the meat of his ass.

Brock didn’t know what it was that Jack did to get him this way, he just managed to constantly make him feel _good_. It felt easy with him, like he didn’t have to prove anything. All he had to be was Brock and as long as Jack was on board, he was free to do whatever he liked. It was different. 

Here, Jack was so easygoing and his hands told Brock so much. Jack held himself back while Brock felt parts of himself unravel piece by piece. Together they seemed to be on the same page somewhere, and it had a bizarre level of relief to it.

For Brock it all became just too much, too soon, and he was ready to admit it first. “Shit.” His hips moved in desperation with broken gasps. “M’gettin’ real close, Jackie.”

His eyes drew downwards when Jack coaxed him gently, gaze tracking the peek of tongue licking dry lips. “Can I touch you?”

Brock was nodding before he could really think about it, wanting so badly to find some sort of relief that he wasn’t getting from the chafing of his clothing. The sound of his zipper being undone cut into the air and Jack was soon slipping a hand down the front of his boxers. 

The contact was almost too much for Brock, unable to stop the relieved sob escape him as he rocked into Jack’s hand, compliant and delirious in the sensation. He wasn’t sure if it was his state of mind, but Jack stroking him off felt like the best thing he’d ever experienced and he wasn’t sure he wanted to get off anymore if it meant he’d stop.

Fingers hesitated, Jack’s eyes meeting his as his forehead creased a little, the haze of lust and neediness momentarily clouding the slow realization that Jack was a little unsure and if Brock had any ability to walk on legs that he knew were jelly right now, he would have dragged Jack inside to ride his dick on the couch for being so fucking endearing.

It was then that it occurred to Brock that Jack wasn’t him, that he’d lived here in a sleepy town most of his life and probably didn’t do this kind of thing on a regular basis. Stray thoughts of Jack laying around in the darkness of his bedroom touching himself were more realistic than shadowy back alleys of night clubs or bars with fumbling hands and beer tinged kisses. 

“Yer good, better than good. Jus keep goin’ like that Jackie.”

Jack shakily nodded, taking the advisement seriously, and Brock bit his lip and continued to thrust into his hand, groaning into the air as fingers dug harder into Jack’s shoulder. He could feel his face getting hot, a part of him wanting to roll the window down though he couldn’t bear to stop any of what they were doing for it. He leaned over and buried his face against the side of Jack’s neck instead, wanting to be closer. Everything was pressing in together, all the stress and every ache, mixing with needs and wants and all that was Jack, on top of Brock being unsure of how much more he could take like this.

“I never knew I could do this with you.” Jack quietly admitted, a hint of surprise laced into his words.

Brock’s eyes felt heavy, nosing Jack’s jaw. “Kiss me.” 

Jack complied, too eager and uncoordinated, missing his mark just slightly but Brock took it, sharing the sloppy kiss before Jack’s mouth shifted to his jaw, lips dragging a light trail of kisses. Their rhythm began to shift into something frantic, desperate.

Brock was distracted the second Jack began nibbling and licking wherever he could easily get access to, his hand giving Brock’s cock a squeeze occasionally in between strokes as Brock thrust in and out in his grip. One small nudge of Jack’s nose dropped Brock’s head back to expose more of his throat and he was at his mercy. He felt like all he could do was fall, now though, he was sure Jack would catch him.

As much as he wanted to close his eyes, Brock forced himself to straighten up again and hold eye contact. He wanted it like this, wanted Jack to know and see that he meant all of it and in his dizzy mind, a part of him wanted to make sure Jack wanted this too, just as much.

“..Jackie..gonna- ” Brock blurted out with no real string of thought. “ _Jack_.”

“Yeah, Brock. C’mon,” Jack coaxed, pressing their mouths together. His gaze was so intense that Brock couldn’t help but moan over it.

His breath hitched, sucking in a lungful of air before he ended up losing himself. Unable to hold back anymore, Brock’s hips stuttered and he had no further time to warn Jack before he was releasing into his hand. He couldn’t even register the sound following as he came; a choked, whimpered groan he never thought he was capable of producing.

He could feel himself trembling with the aftershocks as Jack gingerly milked him through them. There was a trail of kisses grazing along his jaw and Jack whispering soft things Brock couldn’t mostly make out until lips reached his ear and he was told he was perfect and that Jack always wanted to see him like this. If Brock wasn’t already flushed, his face would have with those words, his cheek pressed against the side of Jack’s face as he attempted to breathe normally again, panting into dark strands of hair. His lack of response didn’t stop the way his heart clenched and twisted before he finally allowed his eyes to close.

It was when his head cleared a little that he realized Jack was wiping his hand on some paper napkins on the side pocket of his truck’s door, Brock absently nuzzling his nose to Jack’s with occasional kisses to his lips.

It took a few more hazy seconds for Brock to realize he wasn’t even sure Jack came and he forced his spent body to sit up from a slump. It was the guilty look he received back that told him Jack already did. His hand reached down just to be sure, Jack making a small noise of discomfort before moving Brock’s hand away.

“You were really..” Jack swallowed shakily, trying to explain himself as eyes darted away. If Brock wasn’t already charmed by him, more of the little things began to pile up. “Grinding on me and sounding like that..I just couldn’t help myself.” 

Brock broke out in a stupid grin, unable to help it. It was apparently infectious because seconds later Jack followed after him and they both shared a private laugh, Brock’s head dropping forward and gently pressing his forehead against Jack’s.

“We really did that huh?”

Brock nodded in confirmation with a smirk, letting Jack bring a hand up to tilt his head just right before they were kissing again, completely different from how they were just a few minutes ago. This time it was gentle and soft, layers of affection folded in, and Brock was effortlessly caught up in Jack’s orbit like this. It was scary how easily he could admit that to himself, being lost in his attention and company, like he wanted to lose all sensibility just so Jack could be there and care for him.

The window squealed slightly as Jack was winding it down, the bite of cool air a welcome change from the stuffy swelter of them enclosed in such a small space and it definitely needed a good airing out.

Like he was reading his mind, Jack dropped his head back, moonlight picking up the shimmer of sweat across his brow as he shook his head. “Nat’s going to know that we fooled around in the truck. I’m never going to hear the end of it.”

Brock carefully climbed out of his lap, slouching in the passenger seat and in turn rolling down the window at that side. “As long as she ain’t grillin’ me, I’ll take it- otherwise I gotta sleep with one eye open. We didn’t even make a mess, can’t be that bad. Could get one of ‘em pine tree fresheners on yer rear view mirror from the gas station.”

Jack side eyed him with a frown. “She’ll still know. It’s like she’s a damn Russian spy.” 

Brock snorted, ignoring the glare he received as his head leaned out the window. It was starting to get to that time where he needed to turn in and he was sure Jack would be up earlier than he was to start baking. That and he needed to jump in the shower, he wasn’t the only one with that problem too. He let himself linger in the cool air, turning his head to meet Jack’s eyes , and that silent question sat between them.

_What now?_

Brock opened his mouth to tell him he wanted this forever with him, the hope across Jack’s face only encouraged that but then suddenly all the uncertainty about himself all came back and he couldn’t, his arm absently lifting to thumb towards the house, “I gotta get goin’.”

Jack’s shoulders sagged and that tightness in Brock’s chest came back, and he yearned to reach out, to pull Jack close and tell him it wasn’t like that. Rather than explain himself, Brock took the coward’s way out and flashed him a half smile, ignoring the whole situation just to get inside. He scrambled to open the door as quickly as he could, climbing out.

“I’ll walk you- ”

Brock turned his head sharply. “No!” He faltered, drawing his gaze away. “I mean, I’m good. Thanks. I’ll see ya tomorrow, Jack. I’m dead tired and you gotta sleep too, yeah? Goodnight.”

Ignoring the way Jack looked at him, the way his shoulders slumped further, spoke loudly of the rejection and it wasn’t even a rejection, Brock just needed _time_ and he just..

He shook himself out it it, jogging up the porch steps, boxers pulled up by then but his jeans still undone. He was grateful to get the keys out of his pocket in no time flat, unlocking the door as the truck started up and headlights illuminated the area. Brock gave a half-assed wave over his shoulder and threw himself inside, slamming the door behind him before he bodily fell against it and slid down to the floor. He didn’t move until he heard the telltale sound of tires against gravel and the croon of engine trailing away from his place.

What the hell was he doing? 

Lying to himself that he could keep up the charade of being with Jack without actually being with Jack wasn’t fooling anyone, especially when he knew Jack meant everything he felt and it was like Brock was just stringing him along.

He felt like he was back at square one again, leading a life that he wasn’t happy about because he couldn’t do exactly what made him happy and why? Because he was trying to take control of his life? Wasn’t being _with_ Jack something he should allow himself? He was trying not to mess everything up again and all that occurred was him ruining things.

After a shower and climbing into bed, all thoughts and worries seemed to lock themselves away for the time being and memories of only an hour ago flooded in, letting himself be distracted by them. He could still feel the way Jack kissed him, how it felt to be touched by him. The bruises Jack left still tingled and ached and he wondered about how it would feel to have Jack’s weight fully pressing him down against this bed and murmuring for him to keep watching him, keep his eyes open as he thrust deeper inside of him.

It was the last thought he had before he arched slightly off the sheets and gasped Jack’s name into the darkness where no one else could hear him. He rolled over and curled himself up into a ball, holding himself tightly as all the self loathing began to seep in again. He knew he was a mess and no one wanted to be with that.

*****

There was church in the morning and Brock’s plan to attend for a second time was dashed the moment his brain jogged together enough to remind him about last night. Unfortunately, his dick remembered too and no matter how much he wasn’t feeling it, it didn’t get the message. By lunchtime he dragged himself out of bed knowing Jack was stationed at the diner to be an extra hand for the incoming congregation. 

He arrived to see his usual table was surprisingly empty despite how busy it was, a small reserved table marker placed at the center of it. Wanda quickly greeted him at the door, her face bright and welcoming and he couldn’t help but give her a smile right back. Tony gave him a wave as he was restocking the fried chicken warming tray at the buffet station and Pietro grinned when he raced by with a tub of dirty dishes. It all felt like a twilight zone to him when he was expecting a cool reception but figured Jack didn’t let anything be known for the group to pick up on. Brock wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad for him.

Wanda led the way to the reserved table, waiting for him to sit before resting the menu down and Brock smiled up at her again feeling his shoulders ease. He knew he fucked up but whenever the whole family got on his case on top of it, it was overwhelming to say the least. He liked the moments when their dirty laundry wasn’t aired for anyone to see.

“Do you want a coffee to start, Brock?”

“Yeah, and the usual. Thanks Wanda.”

She wrote down his order on the small little notepad she had pulled from her waist apron and gave him another one of her wholesome smiles though this one was a tiny bit sharper and her eyes were a little more distant. “Don’t thank me. Thank Jack. Whatever happened last night, he’s not telling anyone.” 

Her palms casually rested against the smooth surface of the table, leaning in close by Brock’s face and from there he could definitely see how furious she really was underneath all the pleasantries. “I saw him when he came home and I know Jack like the back of my hand, he’s not fine no matter how well he may be tricking everyone else. How could you hurt him, again?”

Brock’s defenses were up, keeping his voice low to avoid gossips eavesdropping on them, “I didn’t _mean_ to hurt ‘im alright? We..did things and I panicked after. Listen, I fuckin’ fucked up, I _know_. I wanna make it right, Wanda. I do but how m’I supposeta learn how to be a normal adult if I can’t even be on my own?”

He wasn’t sure if he was making sense to her and Wanda’s eyes darted across his face like she was searching his mind. Her head turned back towards the front, her twin at the host space taking over and she slipped into the seat across from him. “You’re doing fine by yourself already, Brock. I don’t know why you left New York and I don’t care, but from what I’ve seen here, you’re reliable and dependable and no one has any problems with you. You already take care of yourself and yes, sometimes you do forget to do it but that’s the beauty of being in a small place like Summerhill, no one forgets anyone here. We all look out for each other, we’re all a community. Do you really think Jack would let you be a mess? You can still learn to be you while also being happy with him if that’s what you truly want. Understand?” She pulled herself up and patted his hand. “Think about it. I’ll go get you your coffee and let Jack know you’re here.” 

When Jack arrived, the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach was worse now that he saw how calm he seemed, slipping into the seat across from him. He was pulled together and looked honest to God amazing which only meant he’d had been suppressing things. Jack was easygoing and Brock knew he was not, it was a red flag. 

“Hey Brock.” 

Even his voice was calm, collected - and Brock knew he really messed up.

“Hey- ” He stopped when Pietro strolled over with two mugs of coffee and a carafe for refills, heading off as quickly as he arrived. Jack reached out and pulled a couple packets of brown sugar from the small dish of sweeteners and Brock couldn’t stop himself from staring. “How are ya?”

Jack didn’t even look his way, spoon stirring at the sugar and pinch of milk, “Great. Church was nice, didn’t see you there.”

“Nah, wasn’t feelin’ it. I, um..” Brock trailed off unsure if he should even say anything while they were surrounded by too many people. “I wanna say sorry, ‘bout las- ”

Sharp green eyes turned his way, Jack frowning and his shoulders tight. “I’d rather we not bring it up. I just want to forget about it.”

Brock was nodding automatically but he definitely didn’t want to forget about it. He enjoyed it and had a good time, every moment they were together. Clearly it wasn’t something Jack wanted to hear though, so he left it alone, hands moving to clasp around his cup of coffee. “Thinkin’ ‘bout grabbin’ a few beers and shootin’ some pool at Johnny’s tonight, interested?”

Shaking his head, something in Jack’s gaze softened, earnest and sweet like Brock was used to. He was pulled in by that expression of ease alone. “I can’t. You know how Mondays go. It’s usually the busiest day for fresh bread. I’ll have to do inventory, then proof some of the doughs before turning in early.”

Brock should have known that by now, but he had been so busy trying to keep things good between them, move on from minor bumps, that he had forgotten. Their food soon arrived and they both ate in relative silence, background chatter picking up around them and the worry Brock had been feeling ebbed slowly into a cautious hum at the back of his mind.

*****

Johnny’s was on the outskirts of town; rock music filtering out through the partially open front door and Brock let himself through, the bar to his left and the occupied pool table at his far right, the entire second half of the room saved for a tiny stage and a dance floor. A lot of the tables in between were already occupied and he chose one of the barstools to grab a seat; most folk apparently there to see the band performing right then. Johnny immediately grinned when he caught sight of him and gave him a wave after draping his hand towel over his shoulder, striding over.

“Hey Brock, how’s it going? What can I get ya?”

“It’s goin’. I’ll have a double whiskey, neat. Thanks.” 

Jo nodded, eyeing him. “That rough huh?” 

Brock watched him turn away before he could answer, folding his hands across the bar surface as he smiled to himself. 

Johnny was a good guy, Brock just knew. Warmhearted with everyone and always keeping a positive attitude, Johnny had a charm that Brock would have found annoying on anyone else. 

The first time they met was at one of the town picnics, probably one of the only times Johnny was able to do something else aside from running his business with his best friend Ben, and also the first time he met Storm’s boyfriend, TJ. Both were sweet and doting on each other, the elementary school music teacher seemed like the polar opposite of Johnny sometimes but you only needed a couple of minutes to see that they were clearly head over heels in love with each other. 

Brock was a little jealous, if he was honest about it.

He really wished Jack was here with him, eyes scanning the room for any other familiar faces. He gave a few amiable nods to anyone that caught him looking around and returned when Johnny rested his glass down on a coaster.

“How’s Teej?”

Johnny always lit up to the sound of TJ’s name and tonight was no exception. “He’s great, keeps telling me to invite you over for dinner and that it’s rude we haven’t done it yet. You just missed him too. He hung around for dinner before heading home. You know how September gets; new students, new year and all that. I warned him not to stay up too late but you can only imagine how much _that’s_ going to work.”

Brock chuckled, nodding as he picked up his glass and paused before he took a sip. “When ya gonna put a ring on that finger of his? The way he looks at ya, you know he’s antsy to get that question popped.”

Good-naturedly sighing, Johnny rolled his eyes at him and Brock couldn’t help shooting back a cheesy grin. Everyone was good at asking him the same question and it started to become a running gag in town. “You and every other nosy person in this place knows that when I am ready, no one’s finding out when I do it because it’s going to be a surprise with all the bells and whistles. TJ knows that too.”

“Mhm, sure.” Brock teased, shaking his head. “Poor kid.”

“And how’s Jack then?” Johnny shot back and Brock groaned. “ _Exactly_! I got this one, you worry about yours.”

Slumping against the bar, Brock conceded, giving Johnny a tired look and a salute with his whiskey before taking a long needed sip.

“Want me to run you a tab?”

Smiling gratefully, Brock nodded as he rested the glass back against the coaster. “That’d be great. Thanks, Jo.”

Johnny paused, pulling his notepad out to write something down before giving him a playful wink, heading away to tend to someone at the other end of the bar.

An hour went by rather quickly, and Brock hadn’t realized he’d been sitting and soaking up the environment until the second band broke into his absent thoughts; the music shocked him into sitting up straighter and looking towards the tiny makeshift stage. The first group, _the Guardians of the Galaxy_ , had commandeered the pool table and he knew there definitely wasn’t a chance in hell he’d be getting to use it anytime soon.

He decided instead to order a new beer to add to the last three he’d already had and turned his body to face the other way as he tried getting into the new band, who sounded a little too similar to the Rolling Stones for his tastes but otherwise alright. He had nothing better to do, not like he wanted to dance, and leaned back against the bar with his new beer resting against his thigh.

“First time I’ve seen _you_ here, Rumlow.” A voice said, too close to Brock’s personal space as they sat themselves down in the stool next to him. 

Shrugging in response, he turned his head only to come face to face with Grant Ward staring back at him, a much-too-friendly smile greeting him. Brock’s eyes lingered on the sleek black leather jacket before noticing the tight fitted t-shirt and he quickly realized what he seemed to be up for.

“Ward.” Grant’s smile only seemed to widen, pleased that Brock remembered his name but it wasn’t like he could avoid it. “Wadda ya want? Can’t you see I’m tryin’ to enjoy myself ‘ere?”

Brock noticed the lazy way his tongue moved in his mouth, the edges of drunkenness beginning to come in, and he contemplated settling at one of the tables for the show.

“I can, it’s why I thought I might be able to come over and buy you a drink.”

“Pass.” Brock tried not to make a face. “I’m sure there’s others you can offer it to.” 

“Come on, Rumlow. I know we haven’t spoken much but I’d love to spend some time with you. You know, show you around.”

Brock shook his head, taking another sip of his beer. “A few months too late there.” 

Grant shrugged, “I’m sure you haven’t seen _everything_.” 

Unsure if that was a come-on or if he was being cute, Brock pushed up off his stool and got to his feet, turning to place the now empty bottle onto the bar with a nod to Johnny. “I’ve seen everythin’ I need to fer now.” 

He stepped backwards, away from anything that was relative to Ward, turning around to make his way for the tables when he collided into a woman with dark hair that held purple colored highlights and a striking expression, one brow arched expectantly. He realized she was part of the earlier band.

Brock’s hands went up. “Sorry, was tryin’ to get away from a problem. Wasn’t lookin’ where I was goin’.”

She glanced past him and nodded in understanding. “Lucky for I can give you an out, come play pool with us. You look like a guy that knows how to shoot, you’re on my team.”

“Fer what?”

“Cutthroat. You know it?”

“Of course I do. I’m a little rusty though, dunno if you’d want me to be yer partner.”

She waved him off as they headed towards the pool table. “The name’s Gamora.” She pointed out a man built like a brick shithouse, another that looked like a tall hippy, a short guy that looked like he’d bite you if you said something to him the wrong way and an Asian girl immediately smiling his way. “That’s Drax, Groot, Rocket and Mantis. Everybody, this is..?”

Brock gave them a smile as they all nodded in greeting. “Brock. I caught the tail end of yer set earlier. Real nice, but uh, ain’t there six of you already fer pool?” 

“Rocket is a sore loser, he’s sitting out to sulk,” another man piped up from behind him, coming around with mugs of beer to pass them around and pressing the last one into Brock’s hands. He gave him a flashy grin. “I’m Peter.”

“I’m _not_ a sore loser! Shut up, Quill!” Rocket snarled, dropping into one of the nearby chairs with his drink.

Brock raised his mug in appreciation before taking a long drink.

Mantis racked up the balls, tilting her head his way. “Brock. That’s a unique name.”

His brows went up. “Not as unique as yers.”

She giggled. “It’s a stage name. Everyone always ruins my real name when they try to pronounce it. They say it’s too long so I picked Mantis instead. I like it.” 

“I like it too, suits all the green yer wearin’. Do you guys tour?”

Peter invaded the space in between, draping his arms around the both of them with a grin. “Of course, we’re the next big thing! We’re gonna take the world by storm! Already got sold out shows for the next couple of months in North America and then we’re heading to Asia! We just came back to take a breather, since we grew up here together, except Groot over there. We found him smoking a joint in the back alley of a record store in Roseville.” 

“And you, Brock. New in town?” Drax asked from across the table.

Brock moved to get himself a pool cue, turning back Drax’s way. “Not entirely new anymore, been here fer a few months workin’ out at Sam’s garage.”

“Sam! Oh yeah, I would like to say hello to him before we leave for our tour. Then you must know almost everyone around.”

Brock smirked. “Yeah, pretty much.” 

“I hope you’re enjoying it.” Gamora added in. “I have a lot of fond memories out here. You tend to miss it when you’re gone for too long.” 

“Especially the food, when no one makes a chili better than Nick.” Drax admitted, pressing a hand to his stomach. “I can already taste it.”

“That’s because you had it a couple hours ago, you dummy.” Rocket spat.

Brock laughed. “Yeah, it is pretty good.” 

“I prefer Tony’s crazy experimental stuff.” Groot mumbled, his eyes locked on a hand-held electronic game that read Simon’s Quest at the top of it. 

“I love the cakes and pies Jack makes!” Mantis gleefully threw out, clapping her hands in excitement. “I think I’m going to ask him to bake a special farewell pie before we leave.” 

“Yeah, yeah. The food’s good, we get it.” Peter said with a roll of his eyes. “Right in the now though, there’s a game to play, start it up before we lose Groot to his little pocket games.”

As the others milled around the table, Gamora elbowed Brock in the side. “Jack, huh?”

Brock flustered. “What? I dunno what you’re talkin’ about. I never said nothin’ and Jack ain’t even here.”

“Because _that_ reaction wasn’t obvious.” She shook her head at him in dismay. “But maybe you shouldn’t have that dumbstruck look on your face when he’s mentioned then, you give yourself away.”

Brock thought he was pretty good at hiding his facial expressions but now he was paranoid. “Do I?”

“Yeah you do.” She looked sympathetic. “It’s kind of pathetic.”

“Ugh. Forget I asked, let’s play.” 

By the expression on Gamora’s face, she looked like she wanted to tease him further but chose not to. He was grateful and the rest of the night was a great time in good company; fueled with enough beer to make an elephant drunk, thanks to Drax. He looked like the size of one either way so Brock supposed it made sense. 

It was when he was seeing two cue balls instead of one when he blinked that it was time to head home. He bid the group a goodnight after shrugging his coat back on, ignoring the casual whines for him to stick around a little longer. He smirked. “I got work in the mornin’ ya halfwits. Give me a break.”

Trying not to stumble towards the bar, Johnny’s friend Ben stood at the other side waiting with a smile. “Gonna head home, what do I owe ya?” 

Gamora approached the bar, tucking herself beside him but said nothing while Ben looked over his notebook. He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head as he gazed up towards them in surprise. “Looks like your bill’s been paid off, Brock.” 

“What?” He squinted towards the book and at Ben, Johnny nowhere in the vicinity. “I don’t remember payin’, but.. Any problems though, you come find me.”

Ben smiled again and nodded. “Sure Brock, did you drive over?”

Waving his hand absently, Brock shook his head. “Nah, walked over ‘ere. Night.” 

“Take care.”

Gamora took his arm firmly when they were closer to the exit, managing to turn them face to face and Brock smiled at her. “I ain’t drivin', I _swear_.” 

She nodded. “I know, I believe you but I was wondering if maybe you needed someone to walk with you. It’s a lot different when it’s pitch black outside going into town by yourself. And it’s getting cooler these days.” 

“What?” He pressed a hand against the wall to keep himself from swaying a little. “I ain’t scared of walkin’ back like some kinda pussy. ‘Scuse my language.”

“Trust me.” Gamora said with a roll of her eyes. “I’ve heard worse with those guys.” She smiled, eyeing him carefully before taking a business card out of her jeans pocket and tucking it into his front shirt pocket. “That was fun, we should all do it again when we’re back, maybe Christmas?”

Brock did a double take towards the card, his brows furrowing at her. “Sorry Darlin’, but I don’t swing that way.”

She gave him a wry smile. “Don’t worry, Brock. You’re not my type. We hit New York at the end of November, if you miss anything we could pick up, give that number a call. It’s our agent’s contact number, they’ll relay it back to us.” 

He stared at her a second before barking out a laugh, body swaying back slightly. “My mistake. But yeah, that’s decent of ya. I’ll definitely call if I think of anythin’. Thank you.”

Nodding in return, Gamora folded her arms over her chest. “No problem. Have a goodnight.”

“You too.” He uttered, giving her a wave as he headed out the door.

Taking a walk along the side of the building, Brock ignored the few people heading past him and he paused at the corner, breathing in a few good mouthfuls of fresh air and trying to rid his head of the dizzy sensation creeping up around him. Wanda’s words returned as he retrieved the card Gamora tucked into his pocket, thumb running against the raised lettering before he placed it away again. It was still something so foreign; people that barely knew him just naturally being decent without expecting anything in return. Wanda really wasn’t kidding. 

He was so busy thinking about that he almost walked into the arm pressed against the end of the wall, cutting off his route.

“Hey Brock.” 

“The hell?” Brock squinted until he could really get a clearer image of Ward standing before him, grinding down a finished off cigarette. “Why you still ‘ere and botherin’ me on top of it?” 

Grant shrugged. “Maybe a thank you for paying your bill off, figured I’d ask if you’d let me buy you that drink now.” 

“Like I said before. Pass.” Brock huffed, trying to move past him but he was lightly nudged back. He didn’t bother reacting to that, just yet at least. “Go find someone else to bother.” 

“Hey, I’m just trying to be welcoming here.”

Brock shook his head. He was done with the day and not in the mood, his hands coming up to shove Grant away. “I said I ain’t interested.”

He was pushed just as hard, Brock’s back hitting the wall and realizing Ward was still way _too_ close, not deterred by his rejection.

“What? Not interested in me because you’re so busy messing around with Jack? Is that it? Listen, he’s really not as fun as people seem to paint him up as. He’s kind of a joke, if you ask me.” 

It was unfortunate that Brock was way too drunk for this and Grant was practically sober. His swing missed and arms had defensively come around him roughly, pinning him back.

“Get the hell offa me!” 

Brock gave a hard push, forcing Grant back a little, though it didn’t seem to dissuade him, it only seemed to encourage the situation.

“Aw come on. You look like you’re gearing for a good time.” Ward tried, his voice low, close to Brock’s ear.

“Fuck off.” Brock ground out as he swung blindly but hoped he was getting Ward’s face, fist connecting with something but his head was spinning so badly and it giving him a headache. He realized it was too warm, even out here, his mouth feeling dry.

Arms bracketed either side of him, hot breath dancing along Brock’s warm sticky-feeling skin. “Now that wasn’t very nice, was it? You’re going to have to apologize for hitting me, not a neighborly thing to do. Besides, I just wanted to be friends. I heard that you were avoiding some trouble and figured I could help you forget. I got a friend who could help too and I mean, we could show you a good t- ”

“Not with you.” A voice cut in.

Brock blinked past Grant in surprise to see Gamora standing directly behind him. A switchblade had appeared in her hand, seemingly out of nowhere.

“I’d advise you to back off of him right now before my hand accidentally slips. Understand?”

Ward’s hands shot up in surrender, body straightening carefully as he watched her from over his shoulder. “Crystal. But come on Gamora, I was just playing. You know how I am.”

Brock drew in a mouthful of air, watching Gamora narrow her brows. “Exactly why I won’t hesitate to castrate you if I need to.”

“Jesus, Gamora. Easy there!” Johnny called out as he jogged over with Ben close behind.

Brock couldn’t help himself as he dropped back against the wall and slid down until he was sitting, heels of his hands rubbing at his eyes before he ran one through his hair.

“Hold him there, Ben. Gamora, put that knife away before someone sees you with it. Geez, that’s the last thing I need around here! And if you move one muscle Grant, Ben’s going to leave more than just some bruises and you know Steve won’t even bat an eye because of how he feels about stuff like this!” 

Brock closed his eyes when Johnny came into his space, crouching down. “Hey Brock, you alright? I didn’t know he paid both tabs until I got back from the back room or I would have told you.”

Brock waved him away even though the world was spinning still and he felt like throwing up. He tried to get up, but only ended up wobbling back onto his ass, Johnny’s hand patting him sympathetically on the shoulder. “Maybe you should just relax, drink this.”

A cool bottle of water pressed into his hands and he was grateful, immediately taking a few swallows before leaning back against the wall. “Yeah. I think I will, thanks Jo.” 

He forced his head to lift up, seeing Ben saying something too low to hear as he squatted his large body beside Grant’s, who was sitting against the base of a sign post. He was nursing a black eye as Gamora stood with her arms folded, glaring down at him and Brock turned away to glance over at Johnny. 

Brock caught the concern despite the smile he was offered up and Brock shook his head. “It was nothin’, really. He was jus bein’ pushy and I drank way too damn much.”

“He tends to be. Just drink more of that water, Steve should be here soon and he’s probably going to want you to give him a statement.” 

“Shit.” Brock uttered. The last thing he needed was Steve poking and prodding at him and he pressed a hand to his face. He hoped it wouldn’t get to Bucky or anyone else when all he wanted to do was just forget about it. “The last thing I need.” 

“Sorry Bud.” Johnny apologized. “But we have to call someone in for this kind of stuff just to make sure.” 

Brock got that, even if it didn’t make things any better.

It only felt worse when Steve showed up; sympathetic puppy dog eyes occasionally looking his way even though he tried his hardest not to as they drove back to his house and actually escorted him to the front porch. If Brock had more fight in him he would have told him to stay in the damn car but he was just exhausted and wanted to get inside, away from everyone. 

“Call me if you need anything, alright?”

Brock’s shoulders eased as he gave Steve a small appreciative smile letting himself accept he was only staring at a man that just wanted to help. “Yeah. Will do. Thanks Rogers, g’night.”

“Have a good night, Brock.” Steve replied with one last serious look that he meant it, before retreating back to his car.

Releasing the breath he was holding, Brock closed the door, locking it tight before turning around to the darkness greeting him. He ran a hand through his hair, shuffling quietly into the kitchen for some more water. 

In the living room, Brock dropped himself down on the couch and stared at the walls, taking quiet little sips as he pulled the quilt over that sat to the side. He didn’t feel like it was worth climbing all those stairs for now and dropped his head back, propping his feet up on the makeshift table before allowing his eyes to close.

He wasn’t sure how long he was out for, the rapid knocks that woke him up came back again, more hurried and loud. Brock struggled onto his feet and crossed through the sitting area to get the door, swearing if it was Grant then he was ready to kick his ass. 

The outline of the body through the curtain was too tall to be Ward though, Brock unlocking the door and yanking it open just to find Jack on the other side and breathing a little too deep.

“Jack?”

“Are you okay?”

They both took a moment, blinking at each other in silence and then Brock shook his head. “Rogers called you. This fuckin’ town’s got no sense of privacy.”

Jack ignored his gripe, shifting and looking a little nervous. “Brock, are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fuckin’ okay!” Brock snapped out. “This is why I didn’t want the cops called, fer crap like this. He jus got a little too personal in my face and I hit him. I was drunk and he was too close, it was nothin’.” He paused in realization. “And what the hell did ya do? Drove here as soon as ya found out? Why?”

Opening his mouth to say something, Jack’s brows came together ready to match him but then promptly closed it as his shoulders lowered slightly. “I got a little worried. Steve said you might need a friend, said you looked shaken up.”

“You ain’t my keeper, Jackie. And I ain’t shaken up, I jus, I don’t know. I didn’t expect it.” Brock uttered out, giving a small shrug. He sighed, stepping away to let Jack in. “Beer?”

Jack followed him in with a nod, peering about in the darkness, hand idly searching the switch blindly. “Lights?” 

“Leave ‘em off. It’s late and I ain’t in the mood.” 

Brock rifled through the fridge for the beers, blinking back the sharp cast of light and with a small bit of guiding, the both of them found the couch and sat together at either end. He was a little proud of himself for making the room look a little more decent since Jack’s last visit inside, even if it was dark. Sure there were still boxes but he had moved a lot of things that he didn’t know what to do with into spare rooms for him to figure out later. He had to give Bruce a call sometime and get him to take a look to see if any of it was worth selling.

Jack took a slow sip from out of his bottle as he sat in absolute silence and Brock wasn’t sure how to deal with all of this right now. Relief was there though: while he did want to be left alone, he was also thankful for Jack being stupid and sweet, showing up at his door like some kind of fairy tale. It didn’t feel smothering, just _there_ in whatever way he needed him; like a soothing balm that took his mind away from things he didn’t need to wonder about.

Jack’s arrival lingered a moment before it slipped away and slowly he went back to Ward and what he was attempting to play at. Brock had worse unwanted advances back in New York but this one just felt jarring, penetrating through while he was distracted and it bothered him how someone like that even lived around here.

“Grant Ward is an asshole.”

Brock turned Jack’s way in surprise, but Jack’s face was shrouded and he said nothing else to elaborate, just finished off the last of his beer. Brock watched him stare somberly out the window, a barely visible frown against his lips.

“Ex?”

The words were out before he even thought about how intrusive the question was, Jack shaking his head and slouching against the worn couch with his head drawn to look somewhere else. “ _Barely that_.” 

There was a bit of venom to it, and Brock could relate. Again he waited for some sort of explanation but nothing came. He could only imagine what that asshole said, what he tried with Jack to make himself seem interesting and a decent person when he clearly wasn’t.

Together they sat in silence again, beers slowly disappearing and a new pair coming in before eventually Jack pressed a hand into upholstery and pushed himself towards the edge of the couch cushion. “I should- ”

It was then that Brock didn’t want to hear the last of that sentence, a hand moving outwards toward the center of the couch cushion sitting empty, the wide space between them, thumb and index nestled around the neck of the bottle pressed against his other palm. “Watch a movie with me?”

Brock didn’t know how tense he had gotten himself, his muscles were coiled tight and hoping for release until Jack eased back and nodded, reclining and Brock felt himself settle again. Leaving his beer on the table to reach for the remote, he was grateful Jack was staying, wanted to say something, express _something_ meaningful but nothing happened.

His heart only thumped faster against his chest and it refused to stop, sitting motionless except for his finger switching through channels and a lingering bit of fear that Jack would bolt, the desperation for him to stay forever scratching away at him along the edges of his mind. And why? He was the one that did it to Jack, he deserved it if Jack turned it around on him and he’d have no one to blame but himself. He just hoped he never would.

“There’s no way you’re comfortable like that.” Jack murmured quietly. Brock didn’t respond, swallowing instead and he waited, unsure of how to answer that. 

With a small sound of annoyance, Jack shifted in closer, arm sweeping around behind him at his waist and pulled him in. “Damn stubborn.”

It was only then that the beat of Brock’s heart calmed a little, he leaned in. Let himself do it, to have the moment. He turned to look at him and Jack only mirrored the action, his eyes revealing loaded things he seemed to want to say but couldn’t, and Brock was sure Jack could see the same thing in his eyes as well.

Brock carefully lifted a hand, sliding along rough stubble and Jack was letting him, his expression softening further and it was something that left Brock in a kind of awe. He didn’t even think when he tilted his head up and guided Jack’s head down, mouths pressing together like everything familiar and he just didn’t care about consequences tonight. He only wanted to be close to Jack and he knew Jack only wanted the same thing.

Running his hand down the side of his neck, Jack’s fingertips brushed over Brock’s collarbone and slipped under the open space of his shirt where he had the first couple of buttons undone. He couldn’t help but moan into Jack’s mouth over it, wanting anything he could give him. He just needed Jack right then, welcomed the distraction.

Jack drew back, their noses nudging lightly. “We shouldn’t- ”

He was breathless, the television’s light casting shadows across his handsome face and Brock didn’t want the excuses, hands cradling Jack’s jaw and leaning in for another kiss. Jack only met him halfway, despite his weak protests, a hand pressed to the small of his back.

They both fell back against the couch cushions in a heap; Brock’s fingers deftly undoing Jack’s shirt buttons, watching him peel it away before large hands slid across Brock’s abdomen, hiking his own shirt up and he couldn’t help whatever absent sounds he was making. It had only been a day and he was already desperate.

Shirts fell on top of one another, Jack’s mouth leaving large possessive marks against ones he had already made that Brock had been trying to hide and he only bared his neck for more, fingers fisting into Jack’s hair, encouraging him to do as he pleased.

He ignored the red flags and apparently so did Jack, fingers working downwards towards his belt buckle and he lifted his hips when Jack went to pull his jeans off, his own following after and making a clatter when buckles struck each other. Jack suddenly stopped when they did, heaving for air as he stared, arms holding up his weight. He seemed to want to say something, brows pinching in.

“Don’t think.” Brock whispered, pushing himself up to kiss him again.

He prodded at Jack, hands eagerly tugging down boxers, and Jack helped get them off though a line of worry began to form across his forehead.

“Brock, I really don’t know if this is a good idea..” 

“I wanna blow ya, can I?” Brock offered with a thoughtful bite of his bottom lip.

Jack stared at him for a long moment in what he figured was surprise, eyes obviously searching for something as Brock licked his lips, face feeling flushed and hands sliding down Jack’s wonderfully built thighs. He swallowed thickly before nodding, almost like he was in a trance. “Yeah, okay.” 

Leaning in to steal another kiss, Jack’s hands found themselves inside Brock’s boxers, rubbing along the curve of his ass in slow careful motions, and Brock pushed back into the attention until finally Jack decided to take them off. Brock could only grin against eager lips, hips rolling against the rigid line of Jack’s cock with a heavy exhale and the thrill of skin against skin, the both of them already sheened with a layer of sweat.

Jack’s hand stilled Brock’s hips and when he tried to speak, he could see him struggling. Cupping Brock’s cheek with his free hand, Jack stared at him sternly, “Are you sure?” 

Brock wasn’t able to stop himself from smirking, Jack’s thumb tracing along his bottom lip and he tilted his head forward to lick the pad of it teasingly before sucking at the tip and slipping it into his mouth. 

“Uh,” Jack stared wide eyed and Brock felt the way he shifted his hips to arch against him mindlessly, tongue running along the underside with a small moan that he could feel Jack shiver to.

“Wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.” Brock retorted, body slipping down and trailing small kisses and a few nips across Jack’s chest. He pressed more kisses to his stomach, intentionally letting his breath brush close to his cock as it sat flushed and leaking against his stomach; Brock could fit just enough on the narrow sofa to straddle one of Jack’s legs and push the other off the couch, watching his heel plant against the floor.

“I’ve only had this happen a couple of times.” Jack admitted quietly, his hand brushing through Brock’s hair as soft kisses pressed against inner thigh.

Brock’s eyes flicked upwards to see Jack watching him intently and he flashed him another smile. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, jus as long as yer feelin’ good.” 

At the corner of his eye he saw Jack’s fingers tangle into any part of the couch he could get a grip on the moment the first touch of Brock’s lips brushed against his balls. He seemed to be suppressing any noises and Brock worked his way slowly up from base to tip, nose nuzzling at velvet soft skin and loving how up close he could finally be while also reveling in how big Jack really was.

He could feel the way Jack’s thigh muscles were tensing under his hands, his breath hoarse in the air as fingers seemed to dig deeper into fabric and eyes watched him. Darting his tongue out just a little bit, Brock licked up the length of Jack’s cock in playful, tiny strokes, knowing how torturous the sensation was.

“Jesus, Brock..” Jack groaned out, a hand reaching up to drag across his face, before letting it fall against the back of the couch..

“Watch yer mouth.” Brock mused, “Ain’t very Christian of you to use language like that.” He could hear Jack smothering a partial laugh just before Brock’s tongue managed to shut him up when it dragged its way along the head of his cock.

“Shut up.” Jack ground out but there was humor laced in his heavy voice, partially lidded eyes watching Brock’s fingers working along his spit-slicked length, too distracted to say anything further.

Brock gave him a wink and purposefully licked his lips slow just before wrapping his mouth around Jack’s cock with a low hum. Jack’s head dropped back against the arm rest, a small exasperated sound escaping and Brock took him deeper, relaxing his throat as his eyes fluttered closed, pleased with himself.

He hadn’t gone down on a guy for a long while and experimented on taking taking more of Jack, the head of his cock nudging at the back of his throat. He tried to ignore the little sounds of pleasure Jack made and the way his hips did aborted movements, fighting an obvious urge to fuck into his mouth. Brock appreciated that even when he was getting his dick sucked, Jack still tried to be a courteous about it. 

Jack’s hand slid into Brock’s hair again, grabbing at a handful while he clearly struggled to keep down a whine as Brock pushed to swallow all of him down. Every bob of his head caused fingers to tighten and usually Brock hated that; being held down in that way, but with Jack it felt good. His mind barely aware of his hips moving along to the rhythm he had set, rutting against Jack’s leg, shamelessly marking his skin with a slick trail of precum that neither seemed to care about. 

Tears sprang from Brock’s eyes the harder he attempted to deep throat him, hungry and stubborn, feeling his face flushing and his ears growing warmer. The way Jack groaned though because of it made it all worth it, a fresh wash of heat spreading across his body that made his toes curl. 

Brock gagged just a little bit, throat contracting around Jack as he made a choked off sound at the end of the couch, hips hitching again before they quickly stilled and Jack regained control of himself. It was an action that Brock found he couldn’t help smiling over, even when his mouth is full and stretched wide, always in awe of Rollins’ determination to be on his best behavior.

Jack’s hand loosened up on his hair, fingers swirling through strands almost apologetically and Brock took his time with long, unhurried sucks and teasing licks until he was pulling off before going back in without giving Jack recovery time to collect himself. It was sloppy, how he liked it, and evidently also how Jack did too, head bobbing a bit faster, feeling that same hand at his hair now settle at the back of his head aware of how Jack was keen on enjoying the show.

Soft encouraging little words began slipping from Jack’s lips, Brock feeling his heart swelling with pride and gratification, the sensation heavy and pooling in his rib cage like it was ready to burst out of his chest.

“Brock.” Jack warned, breathy and far-off. “M’close, gonna- ”

Brock snapped his eyes up, Jack’s head falling back and mouth partially hung open, sweaty body glistening from the colors of the television. He looked wrung out and handsome like this, a small bit of Brock daydreaming about how good Jack was and how nice of a change it was to see him laid out and so exposed. The coiled constriction in his belly only tightened in the knowledge of being the one to get him this way, mouth pulling off Jack with a wet smack. A string of saliva still obscenely connected them together before it broke away, lips shiny as proceeded to lick off the precum already pearling at the head again, lower lip dragging wetly over it while the tip of his tongue only barely traced the crown.

“Do it, Jackie.” He encouraged, his voice sounding wrecked. “C’mon.” 

He kept his eyes locked on him, watching the way Jack swallowed, eyes dark and eager. Brock’s tongue traveled down the underside of Jack’s cock then back up before his mouth was on him again with a pleased, satisfied moan. A little more pressure and a _very slight_ scrape of teeth was all it took for Jack to tumble off, cumming hard into the warmth of his mouth, his entire body a soft tremble of coiled muscle while Brock swallowed down every drop he was given.

“Fuck, Brock,” Jack managed weakly, head falling back against the armrest, Brock milking the last shudders from him as gingerly as he could. 

Taking advantage of Jack’s bonelessness, Brock immediately climbed up his body, giving his mouth a quick swipe with the back of his hand. He leaned in to kiss him, open mouthed and dirty, and it was Jack that surprised him, tongue slipping into Brock’s mouth and he knew he could taste himself there, a spark of excitement going through him.

They dragged on the kisses for as long as Brock could take it, his body too keyed up to do it for very long, and he received an odd look when he pushed Jack back against the couch again, making sure he would keep still. “Stay there.” 

He knew where he was going now, a box by the stairs marked for the bedroom he hadn’t really bothered rummaging too much through. Back in no time flat, he was tucking as best he could between Jack’s legs again and taking Jack’s hand, squirting lube messily over his fingers. “C’mon Jackie. Don’t be gentle ‘bout it either.”

“Yeah, okay.” Jack breathed, half sitting up and pulling him in closer. 

Brock leaned in, groaning to the sensation of one finger working its way in to the hilt. The sting was there, sharp and obtrusive. He didn’t much care, wanted more, a shuddered sigh pressing into the side of Jack’s neck. 

“Jus like that, yeah Jackie.” Brock was already working his hips, fucking himself down on Jack’s finger, “More. Now.” 

Jack pressed another finger into the tight clench of his body, heat spreading across every inch of Brock’s skin, soft little noises escaping that he couldn’t help with every roll of his body. He didn’t have to meet eyes to know Jack studied him closely, leaning in to press kisses along the column of his throat.

“You’re so beautiful.” Jack mumbled against his skin, Brock shivering softly to the touch of his lips.

“Shut up.” Brock gasped out, slowing his motions just a fraction.

“Just telling it like it is..” Jack retorted, teeth marring skin. “Should let me take you out, for real. On a date.”

Brock stilled in surprise and Jack picked up the slack, pushing his fingers in and out, setting a similar pace to what Brock had been going at. 

“Jesus.” Brock started. He made a face, eyes closing a moment as he felt himself slip back to what was going on now. “Not sure I’m even talkin’ ‘bout that with ya like this.” 

Jack hummed, apparently fine with his response, though he could feel the way he was working his mouth to make sure he left a very pronounced and pointedly visible bruise just under his jaw, hand tightening at his hip.

Brock’s brain blanked out, a soft desperate noise reaching his ears that he realized was him as Jack pushed in a third finger. His mouth fell open, not being able to breathe, body adjusting and grinding down against Jack’s palm, taking just as much as he could give. It didn’t take long before he was riding those fingers comfortably again, eyes squeezing shut the moment Jack adjusted those fingers just right. When he brushed against his prostate again, Brock made a small, hurt sound, his hips moving faster as he relied more on Jack keeping him upright. 

Sweaty fingers began slipping off broad, muscular shoulders and Brock drew in silent, short gasps of breath to keep from passing out. They were so far gone like this, so raw together. Jack’s other hand came up to cup his face, their chests pressed in so tight together he could feel the way his heart was racing through his skin still, Brock’s nails digging deeper into Jack’s back.

Brock strained to prolong this moment, but it was just too much, reaching for Jack and snaking an arm around his neck. He brought their mouths together as he pushed back to meet Jack’s fingered thrusts, a uneven moan escaping him. Brock felt like his body was primed to burst into flames at any moment now, barely able to bring the air into his lungs just so he could breathe.

He was so close, Jack curling his digits again and Brock chasing the pleasure with total abandon. He opened his eyes when he felt Jack trying to wiggle his free hand in between them, reaching for his cock but Brock weakly batted it away with a shake of his head. “No, wanna cum like this, thinking about ridin’ ya and- ”

Whatever Brock wanted to say was choked back with a sharp whine, desperate suddenly for release, head falling back and exposing his throat. It was like Jack couldn’t resist, shifting underneath him to sit them up a little more, just enough to get his mouth on him again. Brock felt the warm wetness of Jack’s tongue gliding over the taut stretch of skin just before biting down firmly.

Brock cried out with Jack’s name on his lips as he came in long shudders riding Jack’s fingers roughly through his orgasm until the last of the tension left his body. He slumped forward, boneless and spent, careless of the mess between them. Jack gently pulled his fingers out, Brock only making one small noise of discomfort before going quiet again, Jack’s lips nuzzling tenderly over the mark of his bite as they both settled back against the couch together.

They laid out for while in silence, content together and Brock found, once his mind was back online, that it wasn’t so bad to have Jack here like this, curling into the warmth Jack provided, his naked body stretched out languidly, the beat of Jack’s heart pressed to his skin.

Brock figured he must he dozed off for a few minutes, waking up to the sensation of Jack wiping his belly clean with one of their shirts, still naked together but now partially draped with the throw blanket. He never much dealt with this kind of care, not fighting it as Jack carefully made sure he got it all before pulling the blanket over them. Grateful, Brock turned his head to press a kiss in but Jack didn’t want just one, chasing his mouth as one hand cradled his face and Brock only melted in. It reminded him that Jack said he wanted to date and while he wasn’t sure what to say, the more he thought about it, the more he liked it.

Allowing himself to be lulled into a warm sense of security, Brock shifted a little just so he could rest his head on Jack’s shoulder, the man watching him quietly like there was nothing else he would rather be doing. Their legs stayed tangled, Brock’s big toe drawing along Jack’s ankle as he reached out to fix the mess that was Jack’s hair. “Yer dumb face looks like you’ve gone all sweet on me.”

“I have.” Jack stated matter-of-factly.

Brock grumbled, more to himself than about the response, face pressed in to the crook of Jack’s neck. He could feel himself falling back asleep again, silly thoughts about how comforting it was to be swaddled and protected took over, his eyelids growing heavier the more Jack stroked a hand down his back.

“Jus gimmie a few minutes, wanna stay ‘ere like this fer awhile.”

Jack obliged with a small hum and Brock was out almost immediately, dead to the world.

He only woke up when the sun was on his face and a dream of Jack pressing a kiss to his forehead. He didn’t realize it was what actually happened until it sank in that that particular body of warmth had gone missing and there were no more tangles of limbs. Peeking under the blanket, Brock was still naked but he was alone once again.

A note caught his eye, pressed between two empty beer bottles but Brock already knew it was going to be about Jack telling him how he had to leave for work. His shoes were gone from the foyer when he sat up to look over the couch and Brock tried his hardest to ignore the sense of loss taking over, knowing all too well that this was what Brock always set Jack up for; to leave after they did something like this. It still didn’t make it any less painful.


	6. Chapter 6

Brock eventually took himself to the diner before he’d have to get to the garage, mindful he had to make an effort not to mess everything up all over again. Despite Jack leaving this time, he’d have to show his face, just to make sure he knew this wasn’t another thing they had to keep a lid on.

Inside, he already caught broad shoulders in a much-too-tight t-shirt through the service window, Wanda giving him a knowing smile when he finally turned his attention on her. 

“I’ll go get him,” she said before heading away. It seemed really busy for a Monday, a lot of out of town plates on vehicles he didn’t recognize, and and there was no way he’d be getting something to eat at one of the tables.

Wanda came back just as quickly, a frown across her lips. “He said to meet him around back in five minutes if you got the time? He’s finishing up some orders and then Natasha can take over for him, okay?”

Brock nodded. “Yeah sure, I got time. Thanks Wanda.”

She stared at him with a slight nod, her eyes sweeping over as if she wanted to say something, but Brock only gave her another curt smile and let himself out. He supposed she also knew what happened last night and about where Jack had been all early morning. He had no plans to get into it right then.

He only walked faster around the building. The mangy dog that got scraps was laid out in the weak sunlight, eyes half lidded, watching him approach. Squatting down beside him, Brock reached over to scratch him between his ears, tail set wagging in a moment, and Brock chuckled. “Damn lazy, you get food and scratches. Where do I sign up?”

The sound of the back door opening caused Brock to turn his head. “I thought you said that dog was full of fleas and not to touch him.”

“Eh.” Brock shrugged, pulling himself back up while he dusted his hands off. “Yer the one cookin’ food. I jus fix cars.”

Jack smiled, though it didn’t completely reach his eyes like Brock was used to. “I wanted to wake up to you this mornin’.”

Jack frowned, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “Yeah sorry I just left but I- ”

“No.” Brock shook his head. “Don’t apologize. I get you had to get to the diner. I’m jus sayin’ I did want ya there and- ” He wasn’t sure why he was struggling for words, his mind flashing moments of last night and almost immediately there was a flush of heat reaching his cheeks.

“I know.” Jack interjected, kind eyes staring into his and Brock felt himself relax exponentially. “I wished I could have stayed to see you wake up.”

“I get it.” Brock tried to ignore the way his heart picked up its pace. “Gotta hit the ovens early and _shit_ , I jus realized you must’ve been sleepin’ when Steve called ya and then we- ” Brock gestured helplessly between them, trying to focus, but it was difficult with Jack so close to him again, the radiating heat off his body only adding to his dilemma. “I shoulda told ya to go home,” he admitted softly, dropping his gaze.

“I’m sort of glad you didn’t.” Jack murmured, stepping in closer, hands hovering at Brock’s and it was almost like the lake again. This time though, Brock wasn’t being held up from drowning and he didn’t hesitate to step in and close the space between them, arms coming up around Jack’s neck. 

The kiss was shy and close-mouthed at first but grew heated ever so quickly. They pressed in, Brock melting into the touch when Jack reached a hand to cradle his face and licked in. It was over too quickly, Jack brushing his nose across his and all Brock could do was hold on.

“And I wasn’t lying about the things I said, Brock. I meant them.” 

“I know.” Brock breathed out with a sigh. He drew away as gently as he could, the back of Jack’s knuckles glancing along his cheek.

He could see it though; could see them stealing kisses at the back of the building by the kitchen door on his way to work, even if everyone would know what they were up to. 

He smiled easily when Jack smiled just before he leaned in to kiss him again, gentle and sweet, making Brock’s stomach do that little lurch. “I should go, before Sam starts lookin around.”

Jack took his hands, thumbs feeling out his skin. “Yeah, don’t work too hard.”

Brock reluctantly slipped away, giving him one last grin. “I won’t.”

He left without looking back but feeling better about things, a small bounce in his step as he stepped into the garage waiting for him and Sam wiping a hand on a rag with a smirk across his lips.

“You got,” Sam gestured across the front of his neck and Brock turned to the side mirror to find handprints of flour as well as his friend smiling foolishly in the background.

“How’d you know if,” the words were out before he could stop himself, the rest of his sentence sat heavy on Brock’s tongue, “if the feelin’s right? That it ain’t jus some fluke ‘cause someone’s bein’ kind to ya?”

Sam studied him carefully, a reflection of understanding in his gaze, “You just know, Brock. It’s a feeling you can’t shake off - deep down you’ll know for sure which one it is. You just have to give yourself the chance to take it.”

He was thankful that, while he could see the wheels practically turning in Sam’s head, he didn’t ask about it. Instead he only gave him a soft, kindly smile like he always did when he didn’t need to say another word. A hand rested at his shoulder, giving it an understanding pat before he walked away, back to work.

*****

Brock returned to the back door of the diner after his shift was over. The air had cooled immensely once the sun had gone and he regretted not bringing a heavier coat with him. Once Jack let him inside, though, the kitchen was warm and Brock was always encouraged at the sight of him in an apron, even if he was wearing an open flannel shirt and blocking the view of biceps at the moment.

The radio was playing low in the background and a pair of soup pots were bubbling away on the stove, Jack setting a bowl of boiled sweet potatoes in ice water onto the counter. “Wanna help?”

“Sure.” Brock pulled his coat off and hung it on one of the available hooks by the door. “Lemmie just wash my hands, make sure I ain’t gettin’ grease on anythin’.”

He approached the counter when he was finished and Jack was already dealing with something else, balls of dough wrapped in plastic sat waiting while he poured milk out into a measuring cup. Large hands handling delicate things like eggs and packets of softened butter, it was exactly like how Jack would handle him. The care in it, even if he wasn’t something that needed handling like that: Brock just couldn’t let go of how much he wanted it, maybe even needed it. He couldn’t understand where it was all coming from at once.

“I can’t use the sweet potatoes with the peel on, Brock.” Jack pointed out gently with a low chuckle.

Brock raised his head, startled from his thoughts just to find himself being stared at, Jack’s eyebrows slightly raised. Brock had one hand parked in the ice water bath and immediately he pulled it out to press it against the towel waiting for him. “Sorry, I got distracted for a moment there.”

“I noticed.” Jack said, breaking out into a grin as he portioned out doubles of all the rest of his ingredients. “I could do everything if you just want to sit and watch. I don’t mind.”

“Nah, I got this. My head jus wandered off but m’back.” To prove his point, he hastily began to peel the first sweet potato for a secondary bowl in what he felt was record time, scraping out some leftover bits with a spoon. “No sweat.”

“If you say so.” Jack teased and Brock lightly elbowed him in the ribs, receiving a bump of Jack’s hip in retaliation. 

“Shuddup and stop botherin’ me. Go..go fix that dough you’ve been meanin’ to roll out.”

Jack gave him a wink, pie dishes in wait. “Yes sir.”

Brock fought hard not to smile, though it was a real struggle. “Why baking?” He asked quietly after a moment of silence.

“Why not?” Jack threw back, peeling plastic wrap off the pie crust dough. “Why cars?”

Biting his lip in thought, Jack had him there and he nodded in understanding. The last sweet potato was peeled and he set the water bath bowl into the sink. Standing there idle, Brock watched Jack flatten the dough with a rolling pin, smooth sweeps running across the surface, and with fluid ease the dough expanded to double its size. The sleeves of Jack’s flannel were rolled up past his elbows, flour coating his forearms. Brock couldn’t help but let his mind wander.

“I don’t really know when it was.” Jack spoke up as he worked on the dough. “I’ve just always associated baking with good things. It’s relaxing, feeds people, makes them happy. Even when I could barely see over the counter and it was only a can of cinnamon buns, dad brought enjoyment to it, so it’s always been a positive memory for me.”

“Huh.” Brock hadn’t expected to get much of a response. He couldn’t help the smile as he continued to watch Jack work, spreading the dough out evenly over the counter with careful, practiced movements. He looked calm, serene, and he was right: no matter how menial peeling sweet potatoes was, it was still a positive memory because of who you were spending time with.

Especially it being Jack, this soft-spoken man who was full of so much pure goodness. Kind and soft-hearted, sometimes smiling about absolutely nothing and bearing only good intentions. Sure, he’d tease Brock about his taste in music, but he remembered the foods he loved to eat and always thought of him first. Brock got that now, too long taking advantage. In such a short amount of time, Jack had become his best friend and it was like he always had been.

In turn, Jack had quickly taken over Brock’s head; where he was usually thinking of mundane, trivial things, nowadays everything was Jack. He thought about sunrises out here, and how sitting at the duck pond started to be something he liked, instead of something reserved for old people and kids. Every shade of green stopped being just a color and instead were moods Jack had been in, a bleed of alternative hues blended into his eyes from whatever he wore that day. Then there was the scent of pine that lingered on things Jack touched, and Brock began to dream of getting lost in a forest of trees and reminded him of how Jack’s smile was the only thing that made his day- 

_Oh._

Sam appeared in his mind, staring at him with that loaded expression that Brock knew all too well.

_“You just know, Brock. It’s a feeling you can’t shake off..”_

The realization came in slow - though once caught, it spread through like flames licking up gasoline. The sensation was familiar, and it wasn’t all that surprising. It was just _there_ , like a room he knew, and on went the flick of a light switch, the bulb brighter and more pronounced than before.

He was utterly and completely head-over-heels for Jack, his mouth moving before his brain realized what it was doing.

“I’m in love with you.”

Jack finished rolling out the first pie crust and had started to lay it carefully into the dish when his entire body tensed, slowly blinking as the words sank in for the both of them. Brock carefully made his way back to the counter, standing next to him where he’d left the sweet potatoes and hesitated, unsure of what exactly he meant by doing that.

They said nothing for a long moment; Jack eventually turning his way, brows pulled in a little with bewildered disbelief on his face and his forehead creased. He rested his flour-covered hand tentatively against the countertop. “You’re..what?”

The words were new and heavy on Brock’s tongue but they strengthened the longer he thought about them. It wasn’t something he wanted to take back even if he was unsure if Jack saw him that way. He knew Jack wanted to take him out, and do all those old-fashioned _courting_ things people around here did when they were serious with someone. It was definitely a big leap from blurting your feelings out after giving the guy you’d been fucking about with the runaround. 

Brock had never done this before, never said those three common words to another human being who wasn’t family and even then, it was few and far between. He swallowed down the lump building in his throat and rubbed his clammy palms against his jeans as casually as he could. The blood roaring in his ears made it hard to hear as he moved in a step closer to Jack, a careful eye on him.

“I love you. I know I ain’t reliable an’ I’m surprised as much as you are, but _this_..” He made a back and forth gesture between them. “This is real, Jackie. I’d never say it if I wasn’t sure.” 

Jack continued to stare at him, eyes searching Brock’s own. He really didn’t blame him, doing the same thing himself.

“I know you wouldn’t.” Jack mumbled lightly, his eyes unsure of it.

They lingered, the music barely humming in the background, and Jack licked his lips, brushing hands along the front of his apron. A cloud of flour floated out into the air as he tried to get them remotely clean and Brock stepped in to close the space between them.

Jack kept staring, expression unreadable. “This is much faster than I was planning.”

Brock’s brows rose in surprise. “Sorry to mess up yer plans to maybe fall in love later.”

Chuckling, Jack shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.” His hands came in, resting at Brock’s hips and murmuring a sorry about possible stains of flour. “I meant, I had to bite my tongue a few times when we were on your couch. I didn’t necessarily want to talk about dating while we were doing things. I had to reroute my brain before I killed the mood and told you how much I love you.” 

Brock blinked at him. “Fuck, we’re doin’ everythin’ backwards ‘ere.”

“I feel like I should say it may not be us otherwise.” Jack said before he was moving in and lowering his head for a kiss.

All Brock could do was hold on to Jack’s forearms, pressing in tight against the body before his own. His lips parted to let Jack in and he loved the way he’d lick into his mouth, tasting him like it was the only thing he wanted. It startled a light moan out of Brock, body rocking against Jack’s and he didn’t feel bad about it, wishing he could stay locked into the moment forever.

It was too soon that they were both breaking apart and panting. Jack’s eyes dark and his lips flushed, Brock wished they were back at his place laid out on the couch again, not in the middle of the diner’s kitchen. His hands slid up, cupping Jack’s face and thumbs brushed against his cheekbones, his heart beating so hard.

“I was scared, Brock.” Jack admitted. “I had all these feelings for you, and I kept thinking I was messing it all up.”

Brock nodded at him, eyes bright. “Trust me, I was feelin’ it like you were. You scare the hell outta me, but only ‘cause you deserve everythin’, Jackie. I mean it. I ain’t anythin’ when you compare us.” 

Jack shook his head, interrupting to lean in and kiss him again. It was hard and to the point, arms caging Brock in against the counter and he understood, melting against Jack’s lips and bringing his arms around his neck.

As always, Jack knew how to speak without saying a single word, and Brock, he was always so grateful for it.


	7. Epilogue

**\- 3 months later -**

Brock stared at the newly painted walls in the living room, a hand resting on his hip, testing the air with a small sniff to see if they managed to get most of the paint smell out. All the floral and faded wallpaper in the room was finally out, and a neutral soft olive color was in its place.

The house looked homelier the past week than it had ever before; the main room was a start but there were major plans to get the rest of the wallpaper and most of the old carpet removed while he was at it. The basement was finally cleaned out and most of the boxes were sorted; Wanda, the moment she laid eyes on all the unearthed possessions left abandoned, was given the go ahead to decorate how she saw fit. The rest was hauled off to Bruce’s shop and Brock got to breathe again.

“This is the last box.” Jack announced, giving it a light kick, and Brock heard it slide across the wood towards him, only looking down when it bumped into his foot.

Scoffing at it, he stepped around it to walk past Jack and grab his beer off the kitchen table. “It’s yer damn box, you unpack it.”

“After I cleaned your gutters out yesterday in the middle of another snowfall? Is this the thanks I’m going to get all the time?”

“Of course not.” Brock grinned, approaching Jack with a look they both knew, his arms wrapping around his boyfriend’s waist. “But I do know somethin’ else you can clean out fer me.”

Jack stared at him, expression deadpan. “That’s a terrible come on.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Brock’s lips.

“Works on you though.” Brock shot back, tilting his chin up for more.

“Well yeah, that’s because I’m an idiot. Now come on, let’s get this last box and move your bookshelf out of the way for that side table before we go.”

“Why we gotta go out?” Brock bemoaned as he pressed his face against Jack’s shoulder. “If yer lookin’ fer a picnic we could have one in bed. There’s the bonus of bein’ naked too and not fuckin’ cold.”

“You promised, Brock.” Jack planted a small kiss into his hair. “I just wanted a few pictures of the fresh snowfall and then we can leave, I swear.”

Brock was starting to hate himself for telling Jack all about the cameras Bruce had out for sale. He usually didn’t mind, but stepping outside with the chance of blistering winds freezing his fingers off was something he never looked forward to.

“Jack, there’s a perfectly good fireplace ‘ere. Can’t ya do one of them festive Christmas tree pictures with the snow by the window? I ain’t in the mood to freeze my ass off.” 

“I’ll warm you up in your favorite way when we get back.” Jack promised, abruptly pulling away to pick up the box by their feet; _Jack’s books_ written in familiar but aging scrawl against the side in black felt pen, one of the last boxes he brought along with him to complete his move in.

“You sure know how to charm ‘em.” Brock jabbed, watching a smile absently cross Jack’s lips though he was clearly distracted again to say anything else. Shaking his head, Brock heaved a loud sigh and headed for the stairway. “I’m gonna need a couple more layers if we’re doin’ this.”

“Love you.”

“Yeah..” Brock muttered without looking back as he climbed. “You’d better.”

On their way to the lookout point, Brock noted Jack’s demeanor hadn’t changed. He seemed to actually be _more_ distracted, almost forgetting his camera as they got into the truck, acting further fidgety and all around weird. He knew Jack long enough to know it wasn’t something awful, but there was very much _something_ going on. 

By the time they arrived and pulled over, he chalked it up to some sort of anniversary Brock had missed. Jack the one out of the both of them to recall dates of something sentimental they’d done together and make a moment out of it. Jack was never upset he didn’t keep track, and Brock bit back a good amount of teasing over it: like the first time he’d agreed to a date inside his own home with a romantic dinner together, all candles and wine and little details Brock adored but refused to admit.

Jack took his hand and led him through the underbrush, trying their best not to disturb the snow too much.

“Okay.” Jack paused, gazing at the snow-covered valley. “Close your eyes.”

“Ugh, you should just tell me what anniversary we missed so I can suck your dick to make it up to you already.”

Glancing back disapprovingly over his shoulder, Brock shot him a glare and he caved with a tsk of his tongue.

“Keep them closed.”

“Hurry up, it’s gettin’ cold.”

Brock heard a few steps somewhere before him and the sound of their blanket unfolding, even if there was no way Brock was sitting on snow. It was eerie how quickly silence set in and Brock craned his neck trying to pick anything up.

“Okay, open them.”

Jack had knelt down on one knee holding open a black velvet box. Inside was an elegantly simple, pristine silver ring, the surface of it shining bright against the natural light. It was so unassuming and yet it spoke louder than anything Jack would have chosen to say to him.

“What?” Brock asked, dumbfounded. He stared down at Jack’s hopeful face and then the way the sun glinted off the ring; he didn’t know how his boyfriend managed to place himself so perfectly to the backdrop of Summerhill, completing the whole proposal with a visual effect that probably struck Brock more than Jack meant for it. 

“What? Jack?”

“I’ve always been sure and I know if you want to say you’re not ready, you can.” Jack started softly, green eyes so earnest and honest. Plucking it from the box, the ring stayed clutched between his index finger and thumb. There wasn’t even a sign of a trembling nervousness he’d seen from other people. He was that ready to be Brock’s husband if he was allowed to, and that was _insane_. 

“We wouldn’t have to run to a church the next day either, if you do want to accept this. I just want you to stop feeling guilty about trying to discover yourself and thinking you’re failing at it. I want you to know I’m here to help with whatever you need, support you in any way you need me to. Brock, just..think about it. You can be engaged and take a year, or three or even ten, before we arranged something together.” Jack gave himself a self deprecating smile, “You could also tell me to get rid of the ring altogether or if you decide to never give me an answer, I’ll get that too. Here though, for me, you needed to know you’re it for me and I always want you here in my life. I just woke up one day and realized I wanna grow old with you so, Brock Rumlow - will you marry me?”

While his mind supplied various ways to say yes, there were three prominent words fighting escape. “Are ya sure?”

Jack had to laugh as he nodded hastily, the corners of his eyes crinkling though they shone with what seemed like tears that refused to fall and something in Brock’s chest tightened.

“Jesus Christ, Jack.” Brock croaked, blinking back the wetness he could feel against his own lashes, he _did not_ cry. “What kind of asshole does shit like this? What if I put my foot down and said I wanted ta stay in?”

Jack seemed indifferent by the idea. “I’d figure something out.”

Shaking his head, Brock felt _exhausted_ trying to understand how damn wholesome Jack was. “You shouldn’t be this perfect, Jackie. It’s all crazy, you jus moved in and ‘ere we are again, doin’ all this backwards. How m’gonna deal with your bullshit?”

“Like you always have.” Jack answered easily, the understanding expression of pure love and patience across his face that made Brock’s legs weak. “We’ll just take each other one day at a time, like we always seem to do.” 

Brock nodded in agreement, his hands coming out and cupping Jack’s hands together, the ring sitting in between them, beautiful and subtle. They lingered like that for a handful of seconds before Brock held out his hand and fingers spread ever so slightly in expectation. “Put it on before I change my damn mind, Rollins.”

“I could just return it if you like, considering you didn’t even say yes.”

“No fuckin’ way.” Brock wiggled his finger insistently. “Of course it’s a yes, I ever say no to ya?”

“There was that one time after the pastor’s sermon..” Jack smirked as he watched the ring slide onto Brock’s finger. It was a perfect fit.

Brock smacked Jack’s shoulder with the same hand, “That’s ‘cause if anyone fuckin’ found out, they’d chase us outta town and Nick would murder me. His golden boy would never defile the church that way. Jesus, yer the one that’s raised all God fearin’, think I’m rubbin’ off on you- ”

He raised a finger in warning as Jack opened his mouth to retort something back. “ _Don’t_ start with me.”

Holding his hand up to the light of the sun, Brock admired it more now that he was wearing this ring made just for him. Something Jack had obviously put so much thought into going through with. “M’gonna marry the hell outta ya, Sweetheart.” 

“I can’t wait,” Jack said, smiling up at him.

Brock looked past his hand and sighed, mouth hurting from smiling so much. He dropped down to his knees and cupped Jack’s face between his hands, leaning in only for Jack to take lead with a hand at the back of Brock’s neck, kissing him so hard he couldn’t breathe. Brock laughed helplessly, kissing Jack with just as much as he was given, their lips fitting together perfectly like they always did and leaving him lightheaded. 

Eventually they both pulled back to breathe, foreheads resting together and Jack’s arms tightly wrapped around his frame. “I had a dream a couple weeks ago that you proposed while we were havin’ sex and I kicked you outta bed fer it.” 

Jack leaned back just a little, faking offense by giving him a look of narrowed eyes though the teasing grin on his lips was giving too much away. “I’d have at least waited until we finished before asking you to marry me. It’s a rule.”

Brock scoffed, thumping Jack’s shoulder with a hard smack, “Don’t ever do that shit.”

“Are you planning to marry me, then divorce me, in hopes I ask again?”

“Of course!” Brock grinned, not able to help himself. “I’d marry you a thousand times, Jackie.” 

Jack’s smile was fond and so soft. “So would I.”

Shaking his head in wonder, Brock blamed his brand new _fiancé_ for his undeniable sappiness. “I don’t know how you knew I’d be ready to say yes.”

“You have a way of telling me, I just gotta listen.” It was a simple response, but it was also _everything_.

They kissed until their knees were getting soaked through from the snow beneath and when they stood to head back for the truck, they only ended up stealing more kisses from each other. They both pressed close into other’s space as Brock’s hand slipped into Jack’s hair, clouds of their breath floating off into the sky.

It was only when Brock’s eyes slipped closed and his body pressed closer, his fingers gripping a handful of hair as a moan escaped his lips, that Jack leaned back and stilled hands against Brock’s hips. “Let’s go home.”

Brock opened his eyes with wicked grin, eyeing Jack up and down. “Ya mean let’s go ‘ave _he said yes_ , sex.”

Jack pretended to be disinterested. “Sure, that too.”

They didn’t leave the bed until mid-afternoon on Sunday and that was only because Wanda had made plans to drop by. Brock could already tell she knew the moment she stepped inside and her eyes zeroed in on his hand, taking it with both of hers and excitedly shook it before pressing a kiss to his cheek. She was so excited she couldn’t help admit that she had plans already laid out for their dream wedding, which she had started making a scrapbook for the day Brock came to dinner that first time. The coffee hadn’t even had the chance to brew and all Brock could do was stare at her in surprise.

When they told Nick, he grunted out a _finally_ before officially welcoming Brock to the family with a brusque hug that Brock had to take a long moment to understand before he went lax and returned it. It followed after with a train of siblings coming in to give their blessings and Brock didn’t feel like crying, of course not. 

The following Monday turned into a temporary holiday for Summerhill and even Jack was taken aback at how their small piece of the world stood still _just for them_ while the whole town celebrated with a surprise engagement party full of amazing friends, good food and happy well wishes.

A few weeks later, when they returned to New York together for another family dinner (this time for Christmas), all Brock had to do was hold up his hand and immediately Nonna began to cry. She threw her arms not around Brock, but around Jack, and pressed tear stained kisses all over his face as she rambled away in Italian over how delighted she was. It wasn’t very long before she turned on Brock and he was given the same wet kisses, laughing with Jack against the crushing weight of his family swarming around them.

Jack had never been happier. Neither had Brock and he knew because of that, that together, they were going to be just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that got to this point. It was a fun (albeit sometimes stressful) venture with a lot of hand holding from friends, having a breakdown when my stuff was being edited and occasionally blanking out. I love these two jerks with my entire soul and while I have fun writing them for myself, I'm happy to share with anyone that's interested. Take care. <3

**Author's Note:**

> **[To Breathe Again masterpost for your reblog needs! :D](https://thefancydragonqueen.tumblr.com/post/179678083733/to-breathe-again-author-kalika999-artist) **


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